


BLOOM

by kiwisneakers



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwisneakers/pseuds/kiwisneakers
Summary: On the surface, they're from the same gilded world of glamour, marble, and finery.But underneath... they couldn't be more different.With a dark past and a bright future, all Michiyo Kimura wants is to finish her high school years in silence. But an unforeseen event with Ouran Academy's Host Club changes her life... possibly for the better.
Relationships: Fujioka Haruhi/Original Character(s), Fujioka Haruhi/Suoh Tamaki, Hitachiin Kaoru/Original Character(s), Morinozuka Takashi/Original Female Character(s), Ootori Kyouya/Original Female Character(s), Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Kudos: 13





	1. Playlist

**Paparazzi** by Falling in Reverse

_I need my big break before it's too late,  
cause I'm just a little bit shameless_

**Givin' Up** by Jane Decker

_So sick of feelin' lonely,  
I just can't take it baby_

**Warm Coke** by Valiant Vermin

_Waiting for someone to save me  
from the things I deem a bore,   
_ _but I often ask myself,  
what do I need someone for?_

**I Can't Believe** by Cyn

_I'm giving all my love to this honeymoon phase;  
I'm living off this high for days_

**Stonewallin'** by Jane Decker

_Caught up, into you, and I'm jealous now;  
_ _if you want me,  
you've gotta start reaching out_

**Girls / Girls / Boys** by Panic! at the Disco

_Never did I think that I would be  
got in the way you got me_

**4EVER** by Clairo

_Am I gonna feel this way forever?  
_ _Are you gonna be around for me to count on?_

**Back in My Arms** by Carlie Hanson

_All we have is all I know;  
_ _When you hang up, don't let go_

**Hidden in the Sand** by Tally Hall

_You told me to buy a pony,  
but all I wanted was you_

**peace** by Taylor Swift

_All these people think love's for show,  
but I would die for you in secret_

**Honest** by Hanne Mjoen

_What if we grow up,  
get a house in the hills with a pool and a grill,  
all that? _

**The End of Love** by Florence and the Machine

_I've always been in love with you;  
_ _could you tell it from the moment I met you?_

**Lovely** (with Khalid) by Billie Eilish

_Isn't it lovely, all alone?  
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone;  
Tear me to pieces, skin and bone;  
hello, welcome home_

**Paparazzi** (acoustic) by Making April

_Baby, you'll be famous;  
chase you down  
until you love me_

**Holda You (I'm Psycho)** by White Denim

_I wanna take what's coming;  
I'm gonna have what's mine;   
_ _Better call your girlfriend,  
gonna run and hide_

**everything i wanted** by Billie Eilish

_I tried to scream,  
but my head was  
underwater_

**mirrorball** by Taylor Swift

_Hush,  
I know they said the end is near;   
_ _but I'm still on my tallest tiptoes,  
shining just for you_

**Bloom** by The Paper Kites

_Oh you fill my lungs with sweetness,  
and you fill my head with you_

♪

**Classical music that inspired me while writing:**

**Sakura Kiss** by Moises Nieto

**Symphony in A Major** by Virginia Symphony

**Cantabile, MS 109/Op. 17** by Niccolo Paganini, Jan Vogler

**Three Postludes (1981/82)** by Valentin Silvestrov

**Paparazzi** by Vitamin String Quartet

**Due tramonti** by Ludovico Einaudi

**Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major** by Johann Sebastian Bach, Yo-Yo Ma

**Reverie, L. 68** by Claude Debussy

**Je ne me consolerai jamais** by Eleni Karaindrou, Alexandros Botinis

**Howl's Moving Castle** by Vitamin String Quartet

**The Princess Bride** by Vitamin String Quartet

**Portal - Still Alive** by Vitamin String Quartet

**Pilgrims on a Long Journey** by Cœur de Pirate

**Sailor Moon - Moonlight Legend** by Vitamin String Quartet

**Kiss from a Rose** by Vitamin String Quartet

**Sakura Kiss** by Relaxing Piano Crew


	2. Ch.1 - It Began With a Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that people still watch and enjoy OHSHC?   
> I might be the only one ;3;

A slam startled me from my uncomfortable sleep.

Someone cleared their throat, and I squinted up at the shadow, trying to make sense of it through my sleepy delirium. "Miss Kimura, class is over." My teacher materialized beside my desk, her gentle hand on my shoulder and a kind smile on her face.

Frowning at the drool drying on my lilac blazer sleeve and then up at her, I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You could have woken me sooner." Sure enough, the rest of the desks were empty, leaving me alone with the teacher, the sun slanting in through the arched windows.

"Believe me, I tried, Miss Kimura," she chuckled, "But you were out like a light. Lucky for you, you have stellar grades in my class, otherwise I would have given you detention." She crossed to the front of the room and grabbed something off of her desk before returning to me, her black pumps clicking on the marble floor. "Before you head home, could you return this for me?" She slid a leather book into my hands, embossed on the front with my classmate's name.

**Kyoya Ootori**

Sighing, I nodded and gathered my things into my bag. "Any idea where I can find him, ma'am?" Hopefully this little detour wouldn't take too long... I had someone waiting on me. And she wasn't really the patient type.

The teacher stalled at her desk, turning to look at me with a raised eyebrow. "Music room three, Miss Kimura. I thought everyone knew that."

-

I'd never been in the music rooms after school, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. I knocked first, concerned at the sound of giggles and talking coming from inside.

When a low voice told me to come in, I pushed the heavy, gilded door open and found myself in... a _carnival_? Popcorn and caramel wafted in the air, mixing with the smell of chlorine - probably coming from the dunk tank in the far corner. Balloons drifted overhead, some tied to the wrists of passing female students as they ran from one attraction to the next. A bounce house wiggled near the windows, screeching and laughter coming from inside.

All that was missing was a rollercoaster. Or a ferris wheel.

"Good afternoon, milady! Welcome to the Host Club Carnival!"

Confetti popped in my face with an explosive snap. Startled, I dropped my bookbag and jumped away from the voices, tripping over my own feet and falling to the floor with all the grace of a buttered baby. Trust me, marble makes your bones jam into all the wrong places.

"Ouch! Sorry about that."

I looked up, finding two boys standing over me in matching violet-and-white striped suits, too similar to not be brothers, if not twins. They both extended their white-gloved hands toward me, offering to help me to my feet. Seeing no other options, I placed my hands in theirs and they yanked me up, dusting off my shoulders with focus. "I know you two," I realized. Staring between the two of them, I finally placed their cheshire smiles. "You're the Hitachiin brothers - you're in some of my first year classes."

One of them smirked. "Our reputation precedes us, then."

"But, unfortunately, we don't know your name, Miss...?" the other added, waiting for me to answer.

Gaping at them, I shook myself out of whatever hallucination I was obviously having and plucked my bookbag up from the floor. "Listen, I would love to stay in this weird little dream place, but I have people waiting on me," I explained, rummaging in my bag for the real reason I'd stopped by. Holding the planner out to the boys, I said, "Can you deliver this to Kyoya Ootori for me? He left it in English and it seems pretty important."

The twins exchanged a confused look.

"I was told he'd be here?" I elaborated. "Is he not?"

A deep voice cut in. "Kaoru, Hikaru, you're needed at the fortune telling booth. It's your turn."

We turned in unison, finding none other than Kyoya Ootori standing nearby in a matching purple striped suit, staring at us over the top of his glasses, a prop cane in one hand and his phone in the other. An amethyst velvet top hat perched upon his dark hair, obviously marking him as the ringleader of this shindig.

The twins waved to me with matching aloof salutes and disappeared into the crowd of carnival goers, leaving me alone with Ootori. I thrust his planner at him. "You left this behind in English," I explained.

He looked down at the book and raised an eyebrow at it, as if he didn't believe I was telling the truth, and looked back up at me slowly. "Listen, man, I don't mean to be rude, and I'd love to sit here and chat about stationery for a minute, but you and your friends' little escapades have me running late. Either take the planner or don't, but I have to go."

Ootori reached out and gripped the leather book. I let go and nodded to him, flying out the double doors and down the hall.

She was going to be so pissed.

And I'd have to think of a way to make it up to her.

-

Kyoya flipped through his planner once he found a moment to peel himself away from the carnival mayhem.

Everything was still there. Nothing had been removed or changed.

Except for one, new, intrusively neon pink sticky note on that week's spread, which read: _You need better highlighters. Try Pigment Archive downtown. xo Michiyo Kimura_

He frowned at the obstruction ruining his otherwise neutral planner layout and sighed. _Of course_ he knew who Michiyo Kimura was - he knew everyone at their school, but that was beside the point. He'd have to live under a rock to not notice her, anyway. She stuck out like a sore thumb: hair continuously dyed in outrageous neon colors (currently split down the middle, half cotton candy blue, half bubble gum pink), wearing the boys' uniform rather than the girls, usually styled with leather jackets or too many earrings or clunky boots, and always with strange, bold makeup. Plus, her family was in the newspaper every other week with some drama or another.

Kyoya Ootori didn't know what to make of her... so he usually just ignored her, and assumed she was stuck up and entitled like most other celebrity kids. But this...

Maybe this proved him _slightly_ wrong.

"Okay there, Kyoya?" Tamaki bounded up in his matching suit and top hat, grin easy and wide. He had a plastic bucket of popcorn wedged under his arm beside a small stuffed lion, and his lips were tinted blue from a slushie.

"Fine," Kyoya answered, slamming his planner shut and forcing a smile. "Having a good time?"

Tamaki looked him up and down, smile faltering. "What's wrong?"

Stowing his planner under his arm and turning to his phone, already pulling up every scrap of information available on Michiyo Kimura with flying fingers, Kyoya shook his head. "I don't know what you mean. Everything's fine."

He tried to brush past his best friend, only to get caught in Tamaki's grasp. They met each other's eyes for a long moment. "The twins said a girl stopped by for you." Tamaki kept his tone even, but they both knew that the statement was really a question.

Kyoya looked away first, glancing at his phone. "I'll keep you updated."

He wandered off into the carnival, probably to see how the booths were faring, profit-wise. Tamaki watched him go with a strange feeling in his chest.

Something was about to change.

Something big.

-

_There she is._

_My girl._

_I can't believe it's been so long._

_I've missed you... my star._

_My moon._

_My everything._

_Someday... someday you will return my affections._


	3. Ch.2 - Brand New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, we met Michiyo Kimura, and she met the Host Club for the first time! Wonder what'll happen next...

"Hey, Kimura!"

I looked up from my bento lunch with a hand covering my yawn, mentally preparing for the Newspaper Club hounding me for an interview again, only to find the Hitachiin brothers standing above me with their fancy lunches. "Can we join you?" they asked in unison.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since I'd sort of met them, but somehow they learned my name. And chased me down in the winding Academy gardens.

_Scary._

"Uh, sure?" I said, surprised. I moved over, making space for them (and another friend of theirs that I hadn't noticed) in my gazebo. The twins slid into the cement bench across from me, and their friend sat down beside me. Birds chirped, filling the awkward silence. I took a few bites of my salad while I waited for someone to say something.

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves," one of the twins said with a wink. "I'm Hikaru, this is my brother Kaoru, and this is our friend Haruhi Fujioka. She's in our class too."

Kaoru frowned at his brother, and Haruhi kicked Hikaru under the stone table. I didn't quite understand what happened, but I pretended not to notice.

Smiling, I nodded at each of them in turn, feeling awkward. "It's nice to officially meet you all, I guess. Also nice to meet another girl who wears the boys' uniform."

"Likewise," Haruhi answered with a half-smile. She unwrapped her own bento box and started eating. I tried not to stare, but her lunch looked so good; it was almost all food I wasn't allowed to eat anymore: a sandwich, little fishy crackers, two pieces of candy, a handful of raw carrots, and a fragrant curry in a thermos. She must have noticed my creepy staring, though, and asked, "Everything okay, Kimura?"

"Ah! Y-yeah, sorry," I stammered, burying my face in my hands. "I'm not used to having other people eat with me... and your lunch looks _really_ good. Not to be weird."

Haruhi looked from her bento to mine and up at me. "My lunch looks better than yours? Are... are you kidding me?"

"No!" I laughed. "I'm on a weirdly strict diet for a movie I'm in over the next break. So I'm starving pretty much all the time." I tilted my bento toward her, revealing my meager meal: a half-eaten 'salad' of lettuce and tomato (no dressing), brown rice, celery, and a string cheese.

Ergo: hamster food.

Haruhi frowned and opened her mouth to say something, when Kaoru cut her off. "Movie, huh?" Kaoru asked, "That must be pretty cool." He tilted his head and took a bite of his lobster bisque.

I shrugged. "It's okay, I guess," I admitted.

My mother's taut voice nagged in the back of my head: 

_Don't let people get too close..._

_...You never know what they're going to sell to the paparazzi..._

_...Don't tell them too much..._

_...The only friends you have are your family._

Hikaru brightened, sitting up straight in his chair and pointing at me with his grapefruit spoon. "That's why your name seems familiar! You were the little girl in that Tom Hanks movie!"

"Small... Sh-..." Kaoru perked up, trying to think of the name, " _Short Stuff!_ "

Grimacing, I nodded and stared into my sad lunchbox. "Yup, you got me." I pushed my salad around as the twins talked about their favorite parts of the movie, throwing quotes back and forth and imitating Tom Hanks. _Kill me now. Please, Odin, smite me from the earth._

_Short Stuff_ was my least favorite part I'd ever gotten.

I didn't like to talk about it.

"So, I heard you stopped by the Host Club yesterday," Haruhi said.

Thanking the gods for the topic change, I nodded and tucked a loose blue hair back behind my ear. "Yeah, Ootori left his planner behind in English, and the teacher asked me to return it. I take a mix of first, second, and third year classes, so my schedule's a little weird."

"What year are you, then?" Hikaru asked.

"I don't really know," I admitted, "I'm technically a first year, according to the school, but I'm the age of a second year. I already graduated from first year in the states though, so I don't know what's going on anymore."

Haruhi cut in again before the topic could stray back to acting. "Kyoya was acting strange after you stopped by. Did you say anything to him?" She leaned in close to me, as if waiting for me to lay down some hot gossip.

_Did I?_ I paused, thinking about it. I'd basically just explained myself and gave the planner back. Nothing weird there. "Nothing strange," I shook my head. "Just returned his planner and told him I was running late."

Haruhi deflated and exchanged a look with the twins that I didn't understand.

"Want to stop by the Club again today after school?" Kaoru asked, "No carnival today, unfortunately, but we'd love to have you."

"Sure, but I can't stay long," I explained, "But, maybe I should ask now... what's a host club?"

-

The twins set me up with a compromise: I show up to the Host Club late, but bring her with me so we could both stay longer. I reluctantly agreed.

When I picked her up, Mei was very confused about why our day looked different than normal. She preferred routine. But I mean, who doesn't?

Using sign language as we walked from her middle school back to Ouran Academy, I explained that I had to meet some friends for a bit. I pinched all of my fingers together on both hands and opened them twice (meeting); tapped my pointer fingers together like interlocking chains, flipping them between the first and second tap (friends); and finally made two H signs with my fingers, stacking one set on the other and rubbing it back and forth twice (short).

With face masks and sunglasses on to disguise ourselves, sign was easier than speech. Paparazzi were notorious for hanging around both of our schools, waiting for us to leave and try to get pictures of us. Lucky for us, Mei's pitch-dark hair helped her blend in with crowds, but mine... not so much (even though it did usually throw the paparazzi off our trail for a few days after I changed colors). So we had to switch things up a lot - sometimes we took private cars (mom usually remembered to pay the driver), sometimes we walked (I'd wear a hat to cover my dyed hair), sometimes I called us an Uber or Lyft (paying the driver extra to not blab to the press), sometimes we rented a tandem bike...

Anything to get them away from us.

Back at Ouran, Mei and I stowed our masks and glasses in our bags and made our way toward Music Room 3. "New friends?" she asked me with a skeptical, raised eyebrow. "Since when?"

Pulling my baseball hat off, the last piece of my disguise, my dual-colored hair spilled out from underneath. "Shut up," I laughed, giving her a gentle shove and taking her bookbag. "I returned a classmate's planner yesterday, and my guess is he wants to thank me or something?" I steered her down a hall and we started up a flight of stairs.

Mei nodded and kept her stare focused on her feet, making sure not to trip up the stairs and ruin her uniform. "So, _brand new_ friends. They don't know you're awful yet."

"Hey!" I scoffed, "If you're going to keep this up, I'm not making dinner tonight."

"Uh, there's a thing called a cell phone? And I have mom's credit card memorized," she spat back. "Plus, I was kind of craving Thai food anyway."

"You know what? Thai sounds really good, actually," I said, looping my arm around her shoulders as we made it to the top of the stairs. "You're pretty smart, kid." My stomach twisted painfully even thinking about food.

Mei laughed. "Obviously."

I steered her down the pale hall, making sure not to let her wander off or get distracted by everything (the fresh hydrangeas in the fancy vases, the pearl inset into the molding, the portraits of famous alumni), heading toward the Music Room. "Now, there are a few of them, so don't freak out," I warned, "And when I visited yesterday, they had a bunch of people there too. So it might be super busy."

But the doors were open when we arrived. And the music room was empty, except for a grand piano, coffee table, couch, and chairs.

"Where are they?" Mei asked, glancing around. I shrugged, walking to the window and peeking outside. "Maybe they smelled you coming and hightailed it out of here." She flopped down onto the couch and crossed her legs.

"So kind to your elders," I muttered.

The doors clicked shut behind us, and we both turned.

Haruhi, Kaoru, Hikaru, Kyoya, and a handful of strangers stood in front of the doors. One of them pushed a tea cart, stacked high with cakes and a steaming kettle. A blonde stepped forward, tall and princely. He offered a rose to Mei, and said, "You must be Mei Kimura. It is a pleasure to have you as our guest."

"I would say likewise, but you're a stranger and creeping me out," she answered bluntly. "Back it up, sir."

I bit back a laugh, drawing the blonde kid's attention. He rounded on me, faster than I could follow with my eye. "And you. Michiyo Kimura," he muttered, his face much too close to mine, another flower appearing in his hand like magic, "I'm glad to see you've accepted our offer."

"O-offer?" I sputtered, sucked into his deep blue gaze. When had he taken my hand?

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Why, to join the Host Club, of course."

My head spun. "J-join the Host Club?" I stammered. "Wh-when did? I-I didn't...?" My vision got spotty around the edges, and my bones went rubbery. I could feel all of their eyes poised on me, waiting for my answer, for more words to come out of my mouth. But I couldn't find any.

Haruhi stepped closer, raising a hand. "Uh, senpai? I think Kimura needs help."

The group advanced toward the blonde and I, and the air went thin.

Darkness overwhelmed me, dragging me down.

I think I called for help.

But I can't remember.


	4. Ch.3 - Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo officially met Haruhi, Kaoru, and Hikaru, and got dragged along to the Host Club, where things quickly nosedived...

Roses and tea.

Someone's hand in mine.

My ears rang with screaming.

An icy shiver ran through me, and I forced my eyes open. A chandelier hung overhead, glowing softly in the setting sun.

"She's awake!" A kind voice chirped from my side, sharp on my fuzzy brain.

Grimacing at the volume, I clutched my pounding temple in my hand and pushed myself up to sit. "Careful," said a low voice from above me. I craned my head back, finding a tall, black-haired boy leaning over the back of the couch, his stoic eyes fixed upon me.

"Are you feeling better, Michiyo-kun?" I swung my gaze down to my side, where a tiny blonde boy knelt beside the couch. He gripped my hand in his, brows creased with worry. "We were all so worried when you passed out, especially your sister."

My heart shook in my chest. "Mei? Where is she?"

The small boy pointed across the room, where Mei huddled against the wall, clutching her head and rocking. Screaming at the top of her lungs for me. "I gave her Usa-chan, but he didn't seem to help," he frowned.

Scrambling off of the couch, I fell to my knees and crawled across the room to Mei. My mind couldn't quite process what was happening, what had happened before. I took her hand in mine, squeezing softly. "I'm here, Mei," I gasped, pulling her to my chest, soothing her, "I'm fine, I'm alright."

Her whole body trembled. Spurts of words escaped her bloody lips - she'd probably been picking while I was passed out - nothing quite making sense as she shook her head. "Alone," she spat, "Gone. Thai. Chiyo. Chiyo. Chiyo." My nickname played on repeat for a heartbeat, Mei's shuddering slowing to a simmer from a boil. In her hands, she gripped a pink bunny - probably the Usa-chan the little boy had mentioned.

"I'm okay," I repeated, holding her tight. I ran my fingers through her ink black hair, hoping the repetition would comfort her.

A hand touched my shoulder, gentle and tentative. When I looked up, I found Haruhi kneeling beside me. "I'm sorry about them, about this," she whispered with a grimace, gesturing over her shoulder at the huddle of boys at the coffee table. "They didn't mean for all of this to happen."

Pain jolted through my stomach, twisting and knotting. My cheeks flushed hot and tingly, embarrassed... but of what, I couldn't say. "It's fine," I mumbled, switching to scratching Mei's back through her uniform. "Can I have my bag?" I needed to get both of us out of this pink-walled nightmare ASAP.

One of the boys must have heard and jogged it over - the tall, black-haired one. Haruhi gave him a soft smile and a nod. I managed a nod for him too, before flipping open the flap of my bookbag with one hand and digging around inside blindly, looking for my phone. Mei sniffled beside me, her trembling almost completely gone. The plastic case on my phone met my fingers, and I slid it out from between two textbooks.

As I texted our driver, Ellis, Haruhi leaned in and asked, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"No, we're going to head home," I muttered, shooting a steely glare at the group of boys. They'd been staring, and turned back around to hastily pretend they hadn't been. "I'll see you around, Haruhi."

"Sure," she nodded, helping me to my feet.

I managed to loop my bag over my head - and Mei's too once I grabbed it from where it had been discarded - and then scooped Mei into a clunky piggyback ride. "Goodbye, Host Club," I said as we left, "Please don't bother either of us again."

Kicking the door open, I carried Mei out into the hall, down the stairs, and into our waiting towncar. I greeted Ellis and fell asleep in the back seat beside Mei, our fingers tangled together, before we even left the Ouran grounds.

-

"Well that didn't go according to plan."

The rest of the Host Club stared at Tamaki, open-mouthed.

Tamaki sipped his tea and shrugged. "What?" he smiled. "Today was just a fluke! We'll have to try again on a different day, right?"

Hikaru shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, boss."

"She seemed pretty pissed off when she left," Kaoru added. They sipped their tea in unison.

Haruhi sighed, and said, "We should probably back off, senpai. That was a nightmare for us, so I can't even imagine how stressful it was for her and her sister."

The doors opened, drawing the group's attention. Renge waltzed in, grin wide. "How did it go?" she squealed, "Did she say yes?" She twirled in her school uniform, positivity radiating from her as her skirts swept in a wide spin. In her mind, their argument was fool-proof; there was _no way_ that Michiyo Kimura said no to joining the Host Club.

"Unfortunately, no," Kyoya answered, tapping away on his phone. "But now she knows we're interested."

"What?!" Renge screeched, plopping down in a free armchair. She stole a slice of cake and shoveled a large bite into her mouth, upset. "What happened? What went wrong?"

"What _didn't_ go wrong?" Hikaru laughed, only to get smacked by both Kaoru and Haruhi. He shut up pretty quickly after that.

"If you all had been listening during the meeting earlier, you would have known that Kimura's sister, Mei, is on the autism spectrum," Kyoya said coolly, reaching over to write something in his notebook. "And Hikaru, Kaoru, and Haruhi informed us that Michiyo is preparing for an upcoming role, so we should have anticipated that she might be malnourished."

"Tama-chan should say he's sorry," Honey blurted, staring at his plate of strawberry shortcake. Usa-chan sat in his lap, unharmed by Mei.

"Me?" Tamaki blanched, setting his teacup on its saucer. "What did I do?"

Haruhi was the first to speak up. "You _were_ a little overbearing, senpai. We could have talked for a bit, gotten to know Michiyo first to make sure she was a good fit with everyone before offering her the position. Eased them both into the Host Club's craziness."

"But that's like beating around the bush!" Tamaki whined. "I was just trying to get to the point." He pouted and pushed his cake across his porcelain plate.

"Apologize," Mori grumbled just loud enough to be heard, staring out the window at the setting sun, his teacup nested in his palms.

"But... but..." Tamaki stammered, searching for a rebuttal, " _You're_ on my side, right, Kyoya?"

"Afraid not," Kyoya sighed, looking up from his phone. He leveled a tired look at Tamaki, and explained, "Our profits will increase exponentially with Kimura in our Club. Every day that she isn't here, we're basically losing money."

Tamaki withered, slumping back in his armchair. He tried pouting his puppy dog eyes at Haruhi, to no avail. She shot him a 'you-did-this-to-yourself' look, and he crumpled even further into himself. "Fine. I'll apologize to Kimura," he grumbled.

Honey brightened and wiggled in his seat. "Yay!"

"Operation: Get Kimura to Join the Host Club is back on track!" Renge cheered.


	5. Ch.4 - At a Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo met the Host Club and made a hasty retreat with her sister. We found out that the Hosts want Michiyo to join ASAP...

_She doesn't know._

_How does she still not see?_

_She doesn't understand._

_I can't keep this up for much longer..._

_She has to figure it out sooner or later._

_It hurts to be so close, but it's worse to be away._

_She needs to reciprocate my feelings..._

_Or I don't know what I'll do._

_-_

School got infinitely weirder after my meeting with the Host Club.

Roses showed up on my desk before every class, attached to apologetic notes from Tamaki Suoh. Suoh Tamaki? Whatever, you know who I mean. Each gift pissed me off a little bit more, and by the end of the day, I had amassed a dozen red roses and just as many typed cards.

_Didn't I ask to be left alone?_

At the very least, the twins and Haruhi didn't try to chase me down at lunch. Honestly, though... I'd kind of been hoping one of them would try to find me, at least so I could ask what the crap Tamaki's problem was.

Whatever.

After English - _which I didn't sleep through!_ \- I shoved the bouquet of roses under my arm, packed up my bookbag, and stormed off down the hall toward Quartet practice. I was so lost in my fury and swirling thoughts that I didn't hear anyone following me... Not until I swept into Music Room 2 and dropped my things in an empty chair, disappearing into the back room to get out my cello.

I hummed a song that had been stuck in my head all day as I rolled the case out and set up my music stand. Tying my hair up into a loose bun, I sat down and tuned my sleek, black cello as I waited for the rest of the quartet to arrive.

Until someone cleared their throat.

My face dropped and I let out a long sigh. Annoyed at being interrupted after _one second_ of peace, I swiveled my head toward the source of the sound. Kyoya Ootori stood beside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking smug.

"Can I help you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and letting my bow droop to the ground.

He shrugged and straightened up, beginning to pace the room. "I just wanted to check in and see how you're faring after yesterday's-"

"Shit show?" I finished for him.

"I was going to say debacle," he said coolly. His smooth, calm veneer cracked just a little as the corner of his mouth quirked up, but it vanished just as quickly as it arrived. "But I suppose that works equally well."

I eyed him, suspicious of his motives, but answered, "I'm fine. Mei stayed home from school today just to be safe." Busying myself by pulling out my sheet music, I avoided looking directly at Kyoya. Something about his steely gaze over my skin made me want to simultaneously tell him every deep dark secret about myself and lock my lips up tight to never speak again. He was unnerving.

He hummed, as if processing. If I'd been paying attention, I would have noticed him swooping in close, hovering behind my shoulder. "Rachmaninoff, hmm?" His low voice reverberated up my spine, his breath hot on my neck as he leaned in to examine my sheet music. "Excellent choice."

"I didn't choose it," I countered, turning to keep him in my sights, "It's just a warm-up piece. I prefer Debussy."

I saw it again, that little twitch of his smile - there one second and gone the next. The door opened, and another member of the quartet came in, waving to me with a bemused grin, his eyes flitting between Kyoya and I.

Chuckling, Kyoya righted himself. "Well, I'll take my leave," Kyoya murmured. He strode across the room in a few long-legged steps, silent as a ghost.

As his hand reached for the door, I gathered my courage and yelled, "Tell Tamaki to apologize face-to-face!"

Kyoya paused, just ghosting the doorknob with his fingertips.

"All of these roses with notes seem insincere," I added, watching Kyoya's posture for any sign of recognition, "If he wants me to join his club so bad, then he should apologize in person. Explain himself to my face."

With a single nod, Kyoya slipped from the music room. My heart thudded in my fingertips, poised on my cello and bow. _Weird._

"I didn't know you knew Kyoya Ootori," said the other quartet member, Yoru Tanaka, as he exited the back room with his violin in hand.

I focused on the sheet music once more, dragging my bow across my strings in bursts and fits to warm up. "I don't."

-

"How'd today go?"

I laughed at Mei's shout, depositing my sneakers and bag at the front door. Our dog, a little bichon-frise named Mochi, bounded up to me and begged for attention. "I should be asking you that," I shouted back, scooping Mochi into my arms for scratches. Ellis snuck in the front door behind me, his arms full of my roses, locking up and setting the alarm. We nodded to each other, our usual greeting, and I took off into the empty house, looking for my sister.

Mei reclined on the white leather couch, her eyes fixed on a K-pop music video blaring from the huge TV in the living room. Letting Mochi roam free, I plopped down beside Mei, laying my head in her lap. She automatically threaded her fingers in my hair, working her way through my knots and tangles. "Ellis and I hung out. I beat him at chess twice before he gave up. We ordered pizza for lunch," she told me robotically, her gaze still fixated on the television.

"Sounds thrilling," I sighed, my eyes drifting shut as she massaged my scalp.

The music video changed to a commercial, and Mei rounded on me. "Did anything happen with the host club today?" she grinned, yanking my hair to emphasize each word.

I squinted at her and grumbled, "Did you not see the dozen roses Ellis walked in with?"

"What?!" Mei gasped, her eyes widening, craning her neck to see if Ellis was nearby. "Who are they from? Why did they give you roses?"

Pursing my lips and scrunching up my eyebrows, I muttered, "The blond one is buttering me up."

"The annoying tall one? Or the nice small one?" she asked for clarification.

"The tall one," I laughed. "He wants me to join their club, and keeps sending me roses to apologize for yesterday."

Ellis entered from the kitchen, seating himself in the emerald green armchair opposite Mei and I. "What happened yesterday?"

We glanced over at him, and I _almost_ told him the truth. But something about his stare bothered me. Too eager? Too interested? A tiny voice in the back of my mind worried that he'd tell my parents if he knew the truth. "I met up with some new friends and one of them said something stupid," I fibbed, squeezing Mei's hand so she'd know I was lying on purpose. "The roses you brought in were an apology from him."

His hands clenched into fists, and I could see his jaw working from across the room. My stomach twisted in knots. _Did I say the wrong thing? Choose the wrong answer?_ "Good thing he apologized," Ellis finally said, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started scrolling, the conversation obviously over as his floppy, white-blonde hair fell into his eyes.

Mei and I exchanged a look, weirded out by Ellis's behavior. Another music video started up, and Mei zoned out. Ellis tapped away on his phone in the corner. I let my eyes slide shut, overthinking. _Had I just screwed myself over by lying to him? Would Ellis tell my parents what I said? Would my parents freak out at the thought of me having new friends?_

And better yet... what came next?

Why did this feel like a crossroads?


	6. Ch.5 - No Big Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Tamaki sent roses to Michiyo as an apology for his actions, and Kyoya showed up at the string quartet practice to see how Michiyo was faring after the shit show that was the Host Club's offer of membership.   
> At home, Michiyo told Mei what happened at school, and lied to her bodyguard/chauffeur, Ellis, about it...

It took Tamaki three school days to muster up the courage to apologize.

Or, at least, that's what I tell myself.

Maybe Kyoya just forgot to tell him what I said.

Either way.

Quartet practice was my one solace at school in the meantime. Word had somehow gotten out that I had "'"'beef'"'" with the Host Club, and girls followed me everywhere, assaulting me with thinly-veiled threats and jibes, and only once with actual physical violence. A girl tripped me and I fell down three flights of stairs.

Casual girl stuff.

I'd taken to rushing from one class to the next or hiding out in the bathroom until everyone passed by.

I felt like an idiot. A weakling. Like my life was out of my hands yet again. All I wanted was to finish high school with minimal issues, to pass through the halls of Ouran Academy as a ghost.

And then the second I turned eighteen... I'll disappear.

But more on that later.

I backed into Music Room 2 for quartet practice, trying to watch out for wayward elbows and flying gourmet slushies - _hello, this isn't Glee_ \- and inadvertently backed right into Tamaki Suoh. "There you are, Miss Kimura!" He grinned, immediately clapping his hands on my shoulders to steady me. "I've been waiting!"

His optimism and debonair demeanor overwhelmed me like a wave of cloying aftershave. "Uh, hi? Suoh senpai, nice to see you," I managed once my brain turned back on. I backed away from his touch, into the door. "What brings you to string quartet practice?"

"You, of course!" Tamaki cheered, spinning on his heel and breezing right past a stunned Rika Ito, our other violinist. "I came to apologize for my uncouth behavior the other day. I'd like to believe that I hold myself to a higher standard than that, and I deeply apologize for the undue stress and emotional turmoil I caused both you and your sister." At the end of this monologue, he turned and bowed deeply toward me. "Please forgive me."

Floundering, I looked to Rika for help; she shrugged back at me with a helpless expression. _Thanks for everything, Rika. Super grateful._ "Sure, senpai. I forgive you." I sighed. "Can you just call off the Host Club girls?"

He popped his head up, eyebrow raised. "What do you mean?"

"The Host Club customers," I said, talking with my hands as I deposited my bag into an empty chair. _How much did I need to tell him?_ Deciding as I went to fetch my cello, I added, "They've been bothering me since they heard something happened between us."

"Bothering you how?" Tamaki waited in the doorway of the instrument closet for me, his normally calm, suspiciously beautiful face creased with concern.

Cello case gripped tight in my hand, I looked him up and down and gestured for him to move out of the way. "Just normal school stuff: tripping me, starting rumors, threats... a slushie or two." Rolling the case out to my usual spot, I shrugged. "No big deal."

Tamaki stood frozen in place, rooted to the hardwood. "They... they did those things?" He whispered, his gaze unfocused. "Are you alright, Kimura?"

"I'm fine, really, senpai." I shrugged out of my uniform jacket, draping it over the back of my chair and rolling up my sleeves. "Just talk to them, please." With the black scrunchie from my wrist, I pulled my dual-colored hair up into a messy bun. _Hopefully I pulled that off nonchalantly enough that Tamaki wouldn't freak out, but also so that he'd take me seriously._

But he was at my side in a flash. Tamaki's fingers were gentle, lowering my exposed elbow down between us, cradling my wrist in one hand and running his soft fingertips up my bruised forearm. Long, purplish stripes crisscrossed my entire body from falling down the stairs, and Tamaki's eyes raked over the bruises he could see. "This... was them?" He asked, eyes flickering up to my face.

The concern in his eyes made me lose my breath. I couldn't lie to that unfortunately perfect face. "Yeah. Someone... pushed me down the stairs yesterday."

Tamaki's touch faltered at the crease of my elbow, his hand clenching into a trembling fist. He took a shuddering breath and withdrew. "I'll take care of it," he muttered. Righting himself, he gave me a stiff nod before leaving the Music Room, silent and pensive.

For some reason, I felt simultaneously better and worse as I watched him go.

Rika settled her chair beside mine. "You okay?" she muttered, elbowing me gently, her voice soft.

I nodded absently, my thoughts disconnected and swirling. "Let's just... just don't talk about it. Chopin today, right?"

Rika paused, just as Yoru and Arata entered the music room, finishing the other half of our quartet. "Yup, Chopin. Right."

Yoru and Arata grabbed their instruments as Rika and I warmed up. My mind was completely elsewhere, even as we switched to working on our fluffy piece for the upcoming board meeting, then to the VSQ pieces for the summer concert.

Why was Tamaki's haunted face still imprinted on my mind?

-

Renge and Kyoya sat across from each other, equally intense gazes met over cups of chamomile tea. She was his only customer, at least for now.

Setting about fixing her tea without breaking eye contact, Renge poured in cream from a small, silver pitcher and added a sugar cube, stirring precisely with a pearl-handled teaspoon. "So." Renge lowered her eyes first, plucking up her tea and taking a long sip.

"So," Kyoya responded, leaning back in his chair and pulling his planner out from the crevice of his seat. "You said you had information." He ignored his tea for now. It was mostly ornamental, anyway. Because here and now, with Renge, there was information on the line. He couldn't be bothered with tea.

Tenting her fingers and leaning on the table, Renge's face twisted with a wicked grin. "The club already knows we want Michiyo Kimura for the team. She's the perfect 'Rebel' type to round out the club, and since she's pan, she'll cater to a whole new group of Ouran ladies! It's perfect! No... _she's_ perfect!"

Kyoya sighed and looked at Renge over the top of his glasses, tapping his pen in his planner. "I'm still unsure about the validity of this information, Renge. In all of my research about Miss Kimura, I have yet to find any publication or document that states that she identifies as pansexual," he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Well you obviously didn't read the interview she did with Tiger Teen magazine from two years ago while she was working on the movie _Yes And No_ with Ryan Gosling," Renge smirked, waving her hand nonchalantly, "I had to translate it from English, but I know what she said, and she - without a doubt - told Tiger Teen that she's pansexual."

Thinking while Renge drained the last of the chamomile from her teacup, Kyoya hummed and scribbled the name and approximate year of the publication Renge mentioned into his planner. "Have you been pursuing her for that long, Renge?" He feigned nonchalance, but was vaguely interested, both in Renge's commitment to Michiyo and to any other information Renge might have on this person entering his orbit.

"Pursuing is a weird word for it, Kyoya; I've been a KiManiac since _Short Stuff_ ," Renge said proudly, leaning back in her chair to mirror Kyoya's cool posture. At his unimpressed (and slightly confused) stare, she clarified, "That's what her fans call themselves: KiManiacs. There's a guy that runs a KiManiac blog, and he started the name a long time ago... probably around when _Short Stuff_ came out. He knows all of the inside stuff, even before the tabloids do. It's where all of the KiManiacs get their info and updates on Michiyo."

"What's the name of the blog?" Kyoya asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He chalked it up to building his cache of information on Michiyo.

For the safety of the Host Club and its customers, of course.

Cocking her head, Renge pursed her lips in thought. "I'll tell you... on one condition, Kyoya," she finally said, standing to make her leave. Renge turned, scooping her book bag off of the floor and pausing in a warm beam of sunlight. "You have to promise you won't fall for Michiyo Kimura."

"It's a non-issue," Kyoya sighed automatically, rubbing his temple with his off hand, pen poised over his planner. He didn't have time for nonsense _or_ romance. The only things on his mind were school, the Host Club, and his future. He told Renge all of this in not so many words.

Renge exhaled, long and slow, to steady herself. "It's 'KiMania: The Unofficial Michiyo Kimura Fanclub'. The site is password protected, but it's just her birthday, which you undoubtedly know." She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Kyoya scribbling away in his notebook. _For the club_ , Renge reminded herself, a strange pang in her chest at the sight of him. "See you later, Kyoya."

He grunted back in response, already pulling up the blog on his phone.

And what he found there... was a nightmare. 


	7. Ch.6 - Like Sharks to Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo finally got a face-to-face apology from Tamaki about the incident at the host club, and he found out about the female students bullying Michiyo...   
> Alternatively, Kyoya and Renge sipped tea and discussed Michiyo. Renge steered Kyoya toward a secret website for Michiyo's fans (who call themselves KiManiacs), where Renge finds out all of the best gossip about Michiyo...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sharks were actually harmed in the writing of this chapter. c;

A few more days passed with no overt signs of the Host Club.

I began to worry that they were secretly trained assassins.

Just kidding.

_Or am I?_

Weirdly enough, I began to notice them everywhere I went at school. I never really realized how many classes I had with the twins and Haruhi, or with Kyoya for that matter, either. I even had a class with Tamaki (Intro to Painting) and one with Honey and Mori (Kendo), due to my weird student status. They didn't say anything, and neither did I. Their rabid fangirls ebbed away, leaving me alone once more in a sea of raging hormones - just the way I liked it. I preferred anonymity. At Ouran, everyone was special, which meant no one really was.

And it was perfect.

Mei and I slipped back into our old routine. I went to quartet practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Art Club on Wednesdays and Fridays, and we ducked the paparazzi left and right. When I wasn't doing homework, I was looking up new recipes for us to try or ways to hack the housework so I wouldn't have to do quite so much.

My parents still refused to answer their phones.

After a long weekend of video games and binging on our favorite American foods (pizza rolls and doritos, a poptart sprinkled in here or there for vitamins), Mei and I rolled ourselves to school on Monday, tired and full of preservatives. I clutched a venti latte (with two extra shots of espresso) with both hands like it was a holy grail full of pure energy, ignoring the stares from my classmates at my new hair.

Late Friday night, I'd called my stylist and decided to switch it up. He'd answered the call at 3 AM, and by 5 AM I had mint green hair. I loved it.

I slid into my first class - Intermediate Latin - and slumped into my seat, my head resting on my desk, only to find a piece of paper I hadn't noticed in the way. Frowning, I sat back up, and found the fancy envelope stuck to my forehead. With careful fingers, I peeled the thick paper away from my sticky face and examined it.

My name was printed on the front of the creamy envelope in precise blue calligraphy ink. Curiosity got the better of me, and I tore the envelope open with no grace. Inside, a single piece of navy cardstock waited for me, white ink swirling and looping across its surface.

Mei and I'd been invited to a private tea at the Host Club that afternoon.

No exceptions.

And for some reason... I was a little bit excited.

-

But, I think Mei was more excited than I was.

She tugged me down the street, up the landscaped path, and back into Ouran Academy, talking non-stop. "What do you think they want to talk about? Do they want us to come and hang out every day? Maybe we forgot something there..." Mei turned to me, eyes shining, and said, "Can I see the invitation?"

"Not while we're walking," I laughed, steering her around a group of students that she nearly barreled into. "But I promise, all it says is 'Mei and Michiyo Kimura have been invited to a private tea at the Ouran Host Club' with today's date."

Mei picked at her lips, spiraling into deep thought.

I let her go, guiding us toward Music Room 3 as she muttered out loud. She didn't even notice when we finally made it to the room, or when I pulled the double doors open, or when I pushed her inside. No, Mei only shuddered out of her thoughts when Honey bounded up with a huge grin on his face, Mori tailing from a distance. "Mei-kun and Chiyo-kun! Good to see you again!"

"You too, Honey senpai," I nodded, elbowing Mei.

Mei cleared her throat and plastered on a smile that looked forced. "Good to see you, Honey senpai! Michiyo got a mysterious invitation from the club and now we're here."

Mori and Honey nodded in unison. "Mei is going to hang out with me and Mori for a little bit while Chiyo talks with Kyoya!" Honey said, tilting his head to the side as if in thought. "Is that alright?"

Chewing the inside of my lip, I eyed Mei. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said, rolling her eyes with so much sass that I was sure she saw her brain, "Plus, Usa-chan will be there too." Mei turned to shoo me off, and linked elbows with Honey, the two of them skipping off into the depths of the club.

Mori and I watched them go, and my heart sank just a little.

"I'll let you know if something happens," Mori said, his deep voice catching me off guard. I glanced up at him, and found his hand hovering at my shoulder, like he was thinking of comforting me. But he withdrew. "Follow me." He turned and jerked his head, heading down the length of the hall.

Scrambling to keep up with his long-ass legs, I jogged after him, trying to peek around and take in the club in its natural habitat. I spotted Haruhi talking with some girls near the windows, sipping tea and laughing. The twins sat at a larger table with more clients, playing a board game. I recognized a few of the girls from my classes.

It made me wonder how I'd never heard of the Host Club... and whether I'd ever have joined as a client, considering I was pretty strapped for friendship. Between art club, the quartet, dodging paparazzi, and our hectic home life... I really only had Mei and _maybe_ Rika from the quartet. Ellis didn't really count because he was paid to hang out with us, I guess.

Kinda sad.

"Miss Kimura."

Mori stopped me from barreling into Kyoya Ootori with a hand on my shoulder. I stammered out a thank you to Mori, who merely nodded as he steadied me, turning on his heel and leaving without a word.

Ootori cleared his throat. "Nice to see you again, Miss Kimura," he said, his dangerously perfect smile not quite reaching his eyes, "Shall we?" Sweeping his hand, he gestured to a table set with tea and treats, sequestered away from the rest of the music room by a copse of fake trees.

Chewing my lip, I followed him toward the magnificent spread. "You know, I appreciate being wined and dined as much as the next girl, Ootori. But I just saw you in English. And Mori and Honey in class before that. What was so important that you needed to wait until now? Do you get anxious if you're not surrounded by enough decadence?" I teased, settling into the chair he pulled out for me before unbuttoning my blazer.

I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a genuine smile flash across Ootori's face as he circled the table to sit opposite me, but maybe I imagined it. "On the contrary, Miss Kimura. The host club has a proposition for you, and everyone wanted to be here to witness it," he said, expression and tone level as he poured us each a cup of peach tea.

"Proposition?"

I spun in my seat, gazing out over the Host Club. Indeed, every one of the hosts had their seat facing Kyoya Ootori and I, their stares fixed upon us in anticipation. Haruhi gave me an encouraging nod from her place near the windows, sipping her tea and distractedly talking with her clients.

"You see, Miss Kimura," Ootori began, stirring a single sugar cube into his tea with a pearl-handled spoon, his gaze icy as it bore into my soul, "We have come upon a mutually beneficial business plan for you to join the Host Club."

Plucking up two sugar cubes with the daintiest silver tongs I'd ever seen, I dropped them into my tea and busied myself with stirring, careful not to clink my spoon on the porcelain cup. "I'm listening," I mumbled, eyeing the pastry tower beside me as a hunger pang shot through my stomach.

The corner of Ootori's mouth quirked up, and he ceased his stirring, resting his spoon gently on the rim of his saucer before taking a long sip from his teacup. I didn't know what to do. Was he testing me? Trying my patience? Did he truly not know how annoying his deliberate slowness was? Maybe he was secretly goading me into acting like a moron, giving me ample room to ruin my shot at joining the club...

"You know Haruhi's secret."

He said the words softly, his lips hardly even moving between sips of tea. If I hadn't been staring directly at him, I wouldn't have even known he'd spoken. His dark eyes darted up to mine over his glasses with a clear look of warning before glancing at the rest of the hosts and their customers. "Music rooms have such great acoustics, don't they, Miss Kimura?" he smiled, again without effort, but this time with extra meaning behind it.

Nodding, I picked up his hint, and replied, "They echo quite a bit if you're not prepared to diffuse the sound. Not great for telling secrets."

Smirking into his teacup, Ootori continued. "Because of Haruhi, and the unfortunate incidents with the customers, we'd like to offer you protection in exchange for your admission into the Host Club. Mori and Honey will keep you safe between classes, and the rest of us will protect you during the day. And it works in reverse." An acidic, dark quality took to his voice like sharks to blood. "If you tell anyone at school about Haruhi's secret, we'll be the first to know...

"And we will take immediate action to protect her at all costs." 


	8. Ch.7 - The Rebel Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo received an invitation for her and Mei to join the host club once again for a private tea. Honey and Mori distracted Mei while Kyoya officially asked Michiyo to join the club with a thinly veiled threat tacked on at the end...   
> Because Michiyo knew Haruhi's secret, the club wouldn't hesitate to take "immediate action" if Michiyo spilled the news.

Who knew being a host was so complicated?

Maybe if I'd really known what a host club was before agreeing, I'd have been more prepared. Hikaru and Kaoru's half-assed description hardly covered everything.

Apparently, there had been some big announcement about me in the Host Club e-letter, revealing me as Michiyo: _The Rebel Type_ , "suitable for ladies looking for friendship... _or more_ ", along with a list of my hobbies and favorite things, which were weirdly accurate.

But no one asked _me_ about "or more".

It was the first thing I complained about to Kyoya after being dolled up, measured, interviewed, photographed, and fingerprinted - all in the name of the club, of course. I beelined for him, frustration rumbling in my gut. "What's this I hear about me being available for 'or more'?" I said, sidling up next to him during my first official host club meeting.

He jotted notes down in his planner, like usual, and he did that thing again where he smiles for less than a second. "Good afternoon to you too." His icy shield slid right back up, blocking out emotions and hormones and anything slightly inconveniencing. "Is that what Hikaru and Kaoru wrote? _'Or more'?_ Interesting," he mused, "They do seem to have a knack for riling up the customers, so I leave the newsletter to them and Renge nowadays."

"How do you know Renge didn't write it?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and vaguely wondering who Renge was before refocusing on him, "Anyway, I think you're missing the point! No one asked me if I _am_ available for 'or more'!"

"Well, are you, or aren't you?" Kyoya said, raising an eyebrow at me. "It's very simple, Kimura." His pen stalled in his planner, waiting for my answer. His gray eyes focused on me with such intensity that I swear they would shoot lasers if he let them. Or maybe his robot settings wouldn't allow him to use weapons in a room full of customers.

I pouted, my hands propped on my hips. "It's _not_ that simple."

He said nothing, waiting for me to elaborate.

So I caved. "Well, how do you explain that you have a fake boyfriend as a publicity stunt and that most of the world thinks you're madly in love with the guy, when in reality he's a idiotic windbag with the IQ of a potato?"

Amused, Kyoya began writing in his planner once more, looking out over his host club kingdom. "Fake boyfriend. Got it."

Growling in frustration, I stomped toward Honey and Mori, who I was supposed to spend the day with, stopping and spitting over my shoulder at Kyoya, "I'm not telling you my _super_ good idea for increasing host club profits! You'll have to earn it!"

He laid a hand over his heart like he was touched - or perhaps even slightly wounded - and had the _audacity_ to give me a pitying look.

"UGH!" I grunted and threw up my arms, making my way over to Honey and Mori.

Stupid boys. Stupid host club. _Stupid Kyoya Ootori._

Honey grinned when he saw me coming. "Chiyo-kun! Just in time!" He patted the couch cushion beside him, a few of the girls around tittering at the gesture, and said, "We were going to show everyone how to play a game! Wanna pick for us?"

I collapsed on the couch and crossed my legs, glancing from him to Mori. "You guys are okay with me choosing?"

"Newbie picks," Mori said, sliding me a cup of steaming tea across the table.

A smile worked up through me, my frustration with Kyoya melting away like snow in the spring, and I nodded. "Okay, uhhhh," I said, poring over the board games the boys selected and reading the titles carefully, "How about Clue? I've never played that before. Looks fun."

Mori slid the box out of the pile, and the girls around us whispered excitedly, a squeal or a giggle escaping from the crowd here and there.

"What?" I asked, nerves suddenly gnawing on my stomach, "Did I say something wrong?" Of course I'd already fucked it up.

Honey beamed at me and shook his head. "The girls thought up a personality test... the games in the pile are each of the hosts' favorite commoner board games that Haruhi has introduced us to. They wanted to see who you're most like."

"And?"

"Clue is Kaoru's favorite," Honey explained.

A strange hum of excitement filled my chest, and all I said was, "Oh?"

_Kaoru, huh?_

-

"No Mei today, huh?"

I looked up from the sudsy water, lyrics dying in my throat. Kaoru stood beside me in the immaculate Ouran kitchen, bringing in another load of dirty teacups for me to wash. "Nah," I said with a shrug, "She has a piano recital coming up and needed to practice, so she went home with our driver."

"Too bad," he sighed, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, "I was hoping to teach you guys my favorite board game."

_He heard._

"You heard."

"I heard." He hopped up on the counter beside me, leaning back against the cupboards and peering down into the soapy water. "How was your first day?"

"Fine, I guess," I admitted with a shrug, "Didn't think I'd be on dish duty so soon, but here we are."

"Here we are," he repeated, voice soft, as if he was thinking about something else as he let his gaze drift up my arms, past my cuffed sleeves, to my shoulders, my curled mint hair, my face. "What were you singing earlier? It was nice."

Pursing my lips, I glanced up at him and placed another clean cup in the drying rack. "You heard that, huh?"

"Sure did," Kaoru beamed, "You've got a talent, Kimura."

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the dishes, and said, "Pretty sure you can call me Michiyo, but sure, Kaoru... Thanks."

He studied me for a second and hopped down from the counter, digging through a nearby drawer. When he returned, he had a towel in his hands. Shucking his school blazer off, he folded it neatly on a bare counter and began to dry the teacups, cake plates, and saucers I'd already cleaned, putting them away without me asking.

We fell into an easy rhythm, and my mind began to wander, another song bubbling up to my tongue. Without realizing, I began singing again, despite him listening. Usually, my stage fright was so crippling that I couldn't sing in front of anyone unless it was someone I trusted (namely Mei and Ellis; and don't get me started on how weird it was that I could _act_ just fine in front of anyone but not _sing_ )...

So maybe that said something about Kaoru.

Something I couldn't identify or name quite yet.

Kaoru didn't interrupt or comment; he just let me do my thing. I caught him with his eyes closed once, listening, and I tossed a handful of suds at him. He flinched and scoffed, his mouth twisting between a laugh and a frown. Dipping his hand in the soapy water, he flicked me with murky water, making me squeal and dance out of the way. I retaliated with more bubbles, and he fought back.

Soon enough we were soaked through, both of our white button-ups nearly clear with all of the dishwater. Scurrying back to grab more ammo, I slipped on a wayward bubble, and Kaoru caught me before I could smash my face onto the sink, both of us crashing to the tile in a pile of laughter and bruises.

I groaned and propped myself up, climbing off of his prone form. Kaoru's cheeks were flushed, and he avoided my eyes as I helped him back to his feet, brushing a damp chunk of hair away from his eyes. He drained the sink and dried his hands, passing me the towel as he grabbed his blazer, which he draped over my shoulders.

When I raised an eyebrow at him, he responded with a mumbled, "You need it more than I do." He didn't say anything else as he escorted me back to the empty Music Room, grabbed our things, and walked me out to Ellis waiting in the car.

"Thanks Kaoru," I said, pecking him on the cheek, "Dishes with you was the highlight of my day." I slipped into the car, and we pulled away.

Kaoru's startled face - wide eyes, flushed cheeks, fingertips hovering over where I'd kissed him - smeared into a blur against the sunset as we turned out of the Ouran parking lot and into the city. I smiled to myself and settled into my seat, only to make the mistake of meeting Ellis's steely eyes in the rearview mirror.

A chill ran through me from head to toe, and I glanced away.

"Sorry," I said. Though, I wasn't really sure what I was apologizing for.

Ellis cleared his throat and I saw his jaw unclench, muscles working in his face. "I wish you'd be a little more careful, Michiyo. Peoples' feelings aren't playthings."

"I know that."

"It doesn't seem that you do. That poor kid'll probably have a crush on you now, you know. And it isn't fair of you to string him along-"

"STOP!" I screamed, burying my face in my hands. "YOU'RE _NOT_ MY DAD!"

He sighed from behind clenched teeth, and said so quietly that it only intensified the tension, "I certainly hope not, Michiyo." 


	9. Ch.8 - The Stranger and the Shark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo received her official title as The Rebel Type. Her first day at the club was spent with Honey and Mori playing board games.   
> Afterward, she washed dishes (per dish duty traditions), and Kaoru walked in on her singing. He spent time teasing her and listening, which devolved into a bubble fight. Being a gentleman, he leant Michiyo his blazer to cover her soaked button-up and walked her to her waiting car at the end of the day.   
> Ellis (her driver) chided Michiyo for leading Kaoru on, which only made the ride worse...

Kyoya started being much nicer to me once I got my first customer.

It may or may not have been Rika from quartet, but money was money to Kyoya.

And her parents didn't mind. So it all worked out just fine.

Before her, I'd been bouncing around from host to host, helping them and schmoozing the other guests, trying to worm my way into their hearts. And wallets. We played games, dressed up in silly costumes, performed little skits... I wondered if it was fruitless, if I didn't have customers because I was unapproachable, or maybe because I was sort of a celebrity... or, most likely, both.

But like I said, things got better once Rika requested me. We mulled over pieces for the summer concert, going over our notes from practice, sipping tea, and talking about things to tell the boys. We'd been given six slots for the concert - our final exam, basically - and we only had three pieces selected at that point; if we didn't nail our performances, then the quartet could get cancelled or defunded by the school. Which none of us wanted.

By the end of our first meeting, Rika and I settled on two more pieces: the theme song from Howl's Moving Castle, and _Kiss from a Rose_ by Seal, both of which fit the concert's theme of pop culture. We found Vitamin String Quartet covers on the internet, bought the sheet music, and emailed the pages to the boys, hoping to practice at our next meeting.

A deep cough shook us from our excited planning for the concert, finding Mori senpai hovering over us. "Sorry to interrupt," he muttered, crossing his arms and staring at the marble floor, "Ootori said it's time for your next customer. I can take you."

"Oh!" I jumped up and hugged Rika briefly, waving her off as she left the Host Club before following Mori through the sea of tables and potted plants. "I guess I didn't know I had another customer today, Mori," I explained, trotting along behind him, "Sorry. I would've been ready-"

"It was last minute," he answered, looking over his shoulder at me and slowing to accommodate for my shortness. "Don't worry."

Mori led me to a table in the far back corner, where Kyoya sat with another girl who looked vaguely familiar. "Good luck," he muttered, abandoning me with the stranger and the shark.

Grimacing, I forced a smile at the two of them, and said, "I heard you two are my next appointment?"

Kyoya stood from his seat and ushered me closer to the table. "Michiyo Kimura, this is Renge Houshakuji. Renge helps me run the host club," he explained.

I extended a hand to her, and the name clicked. _Renge._ Kyoya and the others had mentioned her before, and I'd seen her around the club. "Nice to finally meet you," I said, pressing my lips to her knuckles when she placed her hand in mine, laying the flattery on a little thick.

She flushed and giggled, covering her mouth. "Oh my! So sweet!"

I could practically hear Kyoya's optic nerves snap as he rolled his eyes.

We took our seats, and Kyoya poured me a cup of mint tea. I thanked him and fixed it how I liked, waiting for someone to say something. _Surely they asked me to join them for a reason, right?_ I used Kyoya's tactic against him and stayed silent, holding out for one of them to begin the conversation.

"Renge directed me to your fan club page," Kyoya finally said. It was probably the last thing I'd expected to come out of his mouth, but I kept my cool and waited for him to continue, sipping my tea. "And we know about the stalker."

_Great._

Renge leaned forward and placed her hand on my free one, a worried look crossing her features. It seemed genuine. Either that, or she was a better actress than me. "Have you caught them before? They seem to have a lot of insider information, going back since the-"

I'd already been shaking my head as Renge spoke, and set my teacup down with a clatter. Of all things, I really hadn't wanted to talk about _them_ today. Or the accident. "They've broken into my house before," I explained, trying to keep my tone even and my heart rate at a calm level, "They've attacked me. They've followed me places. Home, school, the mall, sets... and they've gotten away every time." Renge's hand tightened on mine, and I squeezed it back, surprised at her kindness when we'd only just met. "I guess I'm just used to it. But I'm not going to stop living my life because some creep can't stop fantasizing about me. That's his problem."

Kyoya's brow furrowed and he pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the touch screen. "I can have someone from my family's personal police tail you, ensure your safety when you're not with Mori and Hon-"

"No."

He froze, and I could feel his gaze boring holes through my skull. "No?"

"No," I repeated, staring at my half-drunk tea. I already felt like a freak. An animal in a zoo, always on display. A doll to be looked at but never played with. A trophy for my parents, their actress daughter who got better roles than either of them and never broke a rule or talked back. "I don't want to owe you anything else, Kyoya. I'm fine. _Everything's fine._ Just..." I stood and cracked my neck, draining my teacup in one chug, "Forget we had this conversation. Sorry. " I left to grab my things and called Ellis to pick me up.

Little did I know, Renge and Kyoya sat silently for a long time, the two of them watching the door long after I'd left. "You should still send the Black Onion Squad," Renge muttered finally, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. She tore her gaze away from the door to watch outside, looking for a distraction. "I have a feeling."

Kyoya nodded, tapping away on his phone. "I agree." He didn't like keeping secrets from Michiyo so soon in their friendship, but...

It was for her own good.

-

"Kimura!"

I looked up from my place in the library, finding Haruhi hovering over my shoulder with a grin on her face. "You were in deep. Whatcha working on?" she asked, making herself comfortable in the empty chair at my side.

Stretching, I frowned and groaned, "Precalculus homework."

"Gross," Haruhi agreed, pulling out a textbook and her notes. "Hey, did you hear about this talent show that senpai cooked up for Friday's host club? What are you going to do?"

_Talent show?_

Knots of anxiety twisted my stomach, and I shivered. "No, I hadn't heard," I moaned, rubbing my temples. Friday only gave me three days to rehearse something or whip something up. _Dammit._

"He just sent the text like half an hour ago, so I wasn't sure," Haruhi said, "Sorry."

Resting my head in my crossed arms on the table, I let my eyes drift closed. "It's fine. I'll think of something eventually... What are you going to do?"

Haruhi leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know yet," she confessed, running a hand through her hair. She chewed her lip as she thought about it and said, "Cooking is really my one talent besides, like, knowing commoner stuff, if that even counts."

I laughed, which seemed to put her at ease. "I'm sure you could cook something, Haruhi," I said, "The FACS rooms have those portable kitchens with the mirrors overhead? You could whip something up in front of everyone. None of those rich kids know how to cook; It'd be like magic to them."

"Hey, you're right," she laughed, holding her stomach, "I totally should."

We sat there laughing for a bit and joking about what I should do for my part of the talent show before turning back to homework. My phone vibrated in my pocket just as soon as we got started, and I pulled it out to find a ton of missed texts, including the one from Tamaki about the talent show.

But there was another one from him that simply said: **_I have an idea._**

_Oh no._

-

_Oh, sweet girl._

_You've come so far._

_I'm so proud of you..._

_Someday soon, you'll be mine._

_And the rest will be history._

_I'll show them all..._

_That our love is unquenchable,_

_Insatiable,_

_Unstoppable._


	10. Ch.9 - Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo updated us on her bumpy transition into the club. Kyoya pulled her aside one day for tea with Renge, and informed Michiyo that they'd found her fan page... and that they knew Michiyo had a stalker. He offered to have someone from the Black Onion Squad tail her, which Michiyo refused. Once Michiyo left, Renge suggested Kyoya send someone anyway...
> 
> Later, Haruhi informed Michiyo that there would be a talent show at the Host Club soon, and a suspicious text from Tamaki waited on Michiyo's phone...

🏵

I managed to convince the quartet to help.

But apparently I owed them big time.

Still not entirely sure what that meant, I agreed anyway, begging them to learn the piece Tamaki sent me before Friday. He'd emailed me a set of sheet music along with his cryptic text, and informed me that his plan required the help of the quartet. So, unfortunately, I had to play along.

I hardly had time to practice the piece, what with homework, club stuff, life stuff, and Mei's piano concert on Thursday night. Walking into Music Room 3 on Friday, I was a nervous wreck, palms sweaty as I dragged my cello case in behind me. A stage shone brightly in the center of the room, seats surrounding it in a concentric circular pattern. Just staring at the thing made me anxious, and it forced me to think about Tamaki; I didn't want to let him down.

"Michiyo."

Silent as a ghost, Mori appeared beside me, towering and intimidating. Needless to say, I jumped, clutching the front of my blazer and tie in my hand, hoping to still my spastic heart. "How is it possible for you to be so quiet when you're so goddamn tall?" I mumbled between steadying breaths.

I swore I heard him chuckle. "Wait for your opponent to be distracted," he answered, "It helps."

My cheeks warmed, suddenly embarrassed realizing that he'd heard me. "Mori, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it-"

"I know," he nodded, a faint smile on his lips. Before I could say something else, he put his whole hand over my face, and said, "Don't apologize again. I am tall."

Surprised, I tried wrenching my face from his grip, considering a good lick on his palm to get him to release me. "Don't even think about it," he added, apparently reading my mind. I grumbled and sighed, shoulders slumping in surrender.

"Good," he said once I stopped flailing. He peeled his hand away one finger at a time, peeking at my grumpy face. "You okay?"

I shrugged and gestured to the stage with a jerk of my chin. "I just wish I'd known about this earlier. I feel so unprepared," I confessed.

"Mmm," he nodded, "Tamaki is..."

"Energetic? Erratic? Unpredictable?" I supplied.

His smile widened just a little, and Mori said, "Or 'spontaneous'."

"My least favorite."

🏵

It turned out that the twins brought in a fleet of helpers to dress us for the event. A handful of them were there just to do my makeup and hair, which surprised me.

"You didn't have to go through all of this trouble," I insisted as someone tugged on my mint hair, curling it this way and that. "I could've done this myself, you know."

"But where's the fun in that?" Hikaru said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kaoru mirrored the movement and added, "Kyoya sold tickets for this. So we had to look fancy, you know."

"Sold tickets?" The idea made me even more nervous. People actually paid to see me perform. Not that people hadn't done that before, but... somehow this was different. These were my peers. This was their money. If I fucked up, then I likely had a future full of slushies and mystery bruises and pushes down the stairs.

Hikaru bent down in front of me. "Hey now," he said, brow furrowed, "Calm down, newbie. They're not coming to see you."

That surprised the anxiety right out of me. Kaoru tilted his head and nodded, adding, "I mean, sure, Tamaki cooked this up to show you off a little, but in reality the girls are just coming to see us."

"Think of yourself like a backup dancer," Hikaru shrugged.

Kaoru grinned, laughing. "Exactly! _We're_ the main attraction!"

I laughed with them, and the tension leached from my shoulders. Everything would be fine. They were right. I wasn't the star today. For once.

And honestly... it was kind of nice.

🏵

"Here is the setlist. There is one taped to the stage as well."

Kyoya passed out slips of paper to each of us, the eight of us standing in a circle in the back room just before the start time. We all had on matching black tailored suits with shiny oxford shoes and black ties, our socks matching our button-up shirt color; apparently each of the club members had a rose that symbolized them or something, and their shirt/sock color matched their rose. So Kyoya had on a nice lavender button-up under his black suit; Tamaki had on white; Hikaru and Kaoru had on light blue and orange, respectively; Honey wore pink; Mori wore navy (and his suit had subtle navy piping); and Haruhi sported a crimson button up.

Apparently, my rose was yellow. So I looked like some kinda motherfucking Sprite can with my yellow shirt and mint curls and yellow socks, a Mountain Dew spokesperson or some shit. I wasn't pleased, if you couldn't tell. I mean, if they'd told me my rose color earlier, gave me even a day's warning, I'd have dyed my hair before the performance, or at least bought a fancy ass wig to avoid this whole situation.

Phew. Okay. Calming down.

Anyway, I scanned the setlist, muttering curses under my breath, and stiffened. "Why's my name on here twice?" I blurted, my heart stuttering as I realized that, indeed, my name was beside Tamaki's for the classical piece at the top of the list, but my name was the last on the list too. Alone.

Kyoya stared at me, expression unfeeling and unswayed by my question. "You're helping Tamaki with his talent, are you not? Then you have to perform your talent as well, Miss Kimura," he said evenly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging his lip. He enjoyed making me squirm, making me uncomfortable, that much was evident.

But how _rude_.

"I thought my performance with Tamaki was also my talent," I replied, being totally honest, "I don't have another talent ready, Kyoya senpai."

Okay, that last part was laying it on a little thick; I kinda thought that calling him senpai would wiggle me into his good graces, maybe earn me a few last-minute brownie points.

It didn't help.

He shrugged, nudging his glasses further up his nose. "Guess you'd better start working on that then, Miss Kimura. We already printed the programs." With that, he spun from the room, exiting into the music room to greet the ladies waiting for us.

I wasn't sure that I could breathe. Oxygen seemed to have stopped working. I could vaguely tell that the others were still in the back room with me, that someone had their hand on my shoulder, steadying me as my eyes glossed over with frustration tears. "What am I going to do?" I whispered, my voice coming out strangled and weak. "I- I can't do anything. I'm not- I don't-"

"Michiyo."

Mori's voice slid over me like a weighted blanket, settling my swirling, anxious thoughts. He knelt in front of me and wiped the tears from my cheeks. "Go help Tamaki first," he said smoothly, "When you're done, you have six performances to think of something. Plenty of time."

"Yeah, Chiyo-kun!" Honey piped up, leaning on Mori, "You'll think of something! You're super smart!"

Kaoru stepped forward, tilting his head to align himself with my gaze. "You could always do the thing you were doing in the kitchen the other day. If you're up for it," he said carefully, not giving away the secret.

But my brain was still sort of stuck, a bit trapped in the panic. "Bubble fight?" I asked, confused.

He laughed and shook his head, swooping in close. Kaoru's fingers brushed the curls away from my jaw, tucking them away behind my ear, his breath warm on my neck as he whispered, "You could sing."

A shiver ran up my spine, but whether it was from his proximity or his suggestion, I wasn't sure. I shot him a look like maybe he was on drugs. "It's an option. A last-ditch option, but... an option," I admitted.

The door opened again, and Kyoya ducked his head in. "Ready?"

🏵

Tamaki and I crossed the Music Room, settling into our places at the piano and on the lone chair, respectively. I noticed he sat on the leftmost side of the bench, but didn't think anything of it at first. Kyoya stepped up to the microphone as I took my ink-black cello from the case, set it up in front of me, and got comfortable.

"For our first talent, we have Tamaki Suoh on piano performing Cantabile by Paganini, accompanied by the Ouran String Quartet, supported by a special guest," Kyoya said, nodding toward a side set of doors.

I glanced up at him, confused, and followed his gesture across the Music Room. It said nothing about a special guest on the setlist we'd been given. Who...?

The twins held the double doors open as other quartet members exited from within, their instruments and bows in their off-hands, trailed by none other than _Mei_ in a tiny suit that matched mine, yellow shirt and all. I almost started crying again at the sight of her holding her head high, smile wide as she followed the quartet to the stage in single file. Her hair had been pulled up into two dark buns, and someone had convinced her to wear some tasteful makeup.

She looked like an adult.

As the group climbed the stairs, Mei stuck her tongue out at me, and signed, "You look crazy." I smiled and hastily signed back, "You look beautiful." She blushed, replying with a quick, embarrassed, "Stop."

Everyone took their seats, and Tamaki bumped shoulders with Mei, earning him a little giggle that warmed my heart. Glad to see they'd patched things up. Tamaki counted us in under his breath, and we took off running.

🏵

Mei paced the back room with me as I tried not to panic. The classical piece had gone off without a single problem, and now the other hosts and the rest of the quartet were sitting in the audience, watching the others perform as I scrambled to think of something to do for my talent.

"Do you have any pieces memorized?" Mei said, "Like, monologues?"

I shook my head, listening at the door as the twins performed a comedy act. "I haven't been able to go to many tryouts, so I don't-"

"Yeah, okay, no acting, I got it," Mei cut me off. "What about singing?"

Frowning at her, I shook my head. "I'd rather not."

Her face dropped. "You'd rather not? Or you're being a big chicken?"

"Excuse me?" I laughed.

She propped her hands on her hips, giving me a full-force teenager sass-stare. "Can you or can you not sing today?"

"Sure, but-"

"And do you or do you not have a song memorized?"

"Yeah, loads, but-"

"Okay then! Sounds like you're singing," Mei sighed with exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air. She crossed the room, plucking up a water bottle and draining it in one long swig. "What are you singing?"

"My funeral dirge," I replied automatically, rubbing my temples.

"Can't wait."

🏵

The time came for my public humiliation.

I stepped up to the stage for the second time, and stood nervously beside Kyoya as he introduced me. "For our final performance, we have our newest Host, Michiyo Kimura," he said, forcing a smile. When he turned away, he nodded at me, his hand briefly squeezing my forearm in what I thought was a reassuring way.

Mixed signals, much?

I stepped up to the microphone, adjusted it down to my height, and pulled up a stool from when the twins performed their stand up set. Across the room, Renge gave me a thumbs-up with a raised eyebrow, asking if she should start the music, and I returned her gesture. I sighed, closing my eyes.

The guitar faded in, and I tried to fade out, losing myself in the noise. My voice picked up where it needed to, immediately remembering the words on muscle memory alone. I didn't open my eyes, for fear that seeing the audience would shake me.

_Your integrity makes me seem small_

_You paint dreamscapes on the wall_

_I talk shit with my friends_

_It's like I'm wasting your honor_

I dared to peek. My eyes immediately locked on Kyoya's, and for some reason, I wasn't nervous. The words kept coming, and his calm demeanor kept me anchored.

_But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm_

_If your cascade ocean wave blues come_

_All these people think love's for show_

_But I would die for you in secret_

For a moment, I thought I saw something change in his face. His emotions were always so well hidden, but I saw a chink in his armor, a crack in his walls, a slip of his mask. But I'd never seen his eyes like that before. I didn't know what to call that look he gave me, indecipherable in the setting sun.

_The devil's in the details, but you've got a friend in me_

_Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other pieces I imagined Mei, Michiyo, Tamaki, and the quartet performing were Due tramonti by Ludovico Einaudi or Postlude No.3 by Valentin Silvestrov.  
> The song Michiyo sings at the end is Peace by Taylor Swift.


	11. Ch.10 - Eyes Like Horns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, the talent show hit a few snags. Kyoya insisted that Michiyo perform in two separate acts, even though she thought performing with Tamaki would count as her talent too. Mei surprised her by helping during Tamaki's piece as well.   
> Michiyo - with the help of the hosts - decided to sing...

🏵

"Miss Kimura."

I lifted my head, startled straight out of sleep by none other than Kyoya Ootori, who towered over me with an impenetrable mask of boredom, handsome as ever in his lavender uniform. "Mm?" I managed, wiping drool from my face with my sleeve and digging the sleep boogers from the corners of my eyes.

"Class is over," he said, tilting his head toward the door. "Coming to the Club today?"

Yawning, I nodded, gathering up my unused notebook and pens and shoving them in my backpack haphazardly, following him out of the room and down the hall. He didn't say anything, and I didn't mind. Honestly, I was still pretty out of it, so the silence let me wake up a bit before I had to interact with other humans.

Kyoya didn't count. We've established that he's a cyborg. Android?

Whatever.

"Are you left-handed, Miss Kimura?" Kyoya finally said just as we rounded a corner, the music room in our sights.

_Of all the things to ask, why that?_ My face crumpled in sleepy confusion, and I squinted up at him through my stinging contacts. "Sure am. Such an observant mommy. Would've thought your little gossip-mag-dossier on me would've told you that a long time ago." My tone was a little harsh and sarcastic and grumbly from sleep, but I didn't super care. I pushed ahead of him, letting myself into the club without looking back, only stopping to hold the door for him briefly.

From there, I stashed my bag in the back room and made my way to the bathroom to check my makeup and stuff. Luckily, it seemed like I hadn't napped too hard, so my face looked fine. I mean, a little sleepy, _sure_ , but fine enough to interact with other humans, I guess.

Haruhi waited for me outside of the bathroom when I finished, surprising the shit out of me. She laughed, and I took a second to compose myself as she said, "Any chance you want to study together, Kimura? Sounds like both of us have slower days today. And I know that a big test is coming up in both Japanese Lit and pre-calc."

"Oh my god, that sounds _great_ ," I moaned, "Let me grab my textbook, and I'll come meet you. Find a comfy couch for us!"

"Already on it!"

Within half an hour, we had an audience.

Turned out that apparently Haruhi and I were hilarious.

I mean, I could have told you that. But now I had _proof_.

A gaggle of host customers abandoned their hosts to come watch Haruhi and I study together, clapping when she or I got a flashcard correct for Japanese Lit, and cheering us on when we struggled to remember terminology or the proper equation for precalculus. They particularly loved the weird hints we gave each other when doing flash cards, trying to help each other toward the answer.

"Okay, uh, here," Haruhi said, holding up the next card for me. It read: **Durian Sukegawa.**

I needed to give her the name of their most famous work, a quote from it, and a theme from their work that the professor might ask for an essay about... but my brain was not working. Sputtering, I blew a raspberry to kill time and chewed my lip. "Hnggg," I groaned, grasping at straws in the darkest recesses of my mind, "Something food related, right?"

"Yup," Haruhi nodded, "Hikaru hates this but Kaoru loves it?"

Immediately the answer jumped into my brain. _That hint was tooo easy._ " _SWEET BEAN PASTE!_ " I yelled, throwing my arms in the air, my brain flooding with information on the novel we'd read early in the semester. "My favorite quote is ' _I began to understand that we were born in order to see and listen to the world. And that's all this world wants of us. It doesn't matter that I was never a teacher or a member of the workforce, my life had meaning_ '."

Haruhi grinned at me from behind her flashcard, nodding. "And a theme?"

"Change!" I cried, my smile wide as I stood up, climbing onto the couch cushions, throwing my arms wide to add, "Friendship! _Redemption!_ "

The girls laughed as I propped one leg up on the couch arm, breathing heavily with my arms still open, waiting for Haruhi to answer. She smirked and shook her head before flinging the flashcard into the air, chuckling, "You are correct."

Our audience burst into cheers, and I let out a "woop!" of excitement as I let myself collapse onto the couch, all of the happiness washing through me as I reveled in my hard work. But Haruhi didn't let me rest. "Next up, Banana Yoshimoto," she said, holding up the flashcard.

" _Kitchen_ ," I said automatically, earning another round of applause and launching into another bit of witty repartee with Haruhi.

🏵

Beyond the study-session-turned-social-event, Kyoya crossed his arms over his chest at the edge of the host club and frowned at the noisy flock of customers surrounding Haruhi and Michiyo. His planner protected his heart, held tight between his arms and his chest. Some kind of emotion brewed under the surface of his skin, but whatever it was...

Kyoya Ootori did _not_ like it.

"Something wrong, Kyoya?" Tamaki sidled up to his best friend, hands carefully folded behind his back, smirk hardly restrained. He could see Kyoya's distress from a mile away, screaming for Tamaki to save him and intervene ASAP. Or at least, that's how Tamaki perceived it.

Kyoya's steel-silver eyes flicked from the giggling girls to Tamaki and back, and he sighed, frown deflating as the tension leached from his shoulders. "No. It's nothing," he grumbled, massaging his temples out of frustration both with himself (for the feelings) and with Tamaki (for being irritating).

Tamaki scooted closer, poking Kyoya's cheekbone repeatedly as he said with a teasing, singsong voice, "I don't believe youuu~"

Swatting Tamaki's hand away with a sneer, Kyoya scoffed and spun out of reach. "Don't believe me then, that's none of my concern."

But despite Kyoya's best efforts to lose Tamaki in the club, Tamaki tailed him clear across the room until they found themselves seated at Kyoya's favorite table - the one perfect for eavesdropping. They maintained eye contact throughout the tea pouring - Kyoya with venom-laced indifference and Tamaki with his delighted smirk - until finally Tamaki broke the tension with a chuckle. "You're _jealous_ of _Haruhi_."

Kyoya had never heard such _bullshit_ in his life. "Why on earth would I be jealous of Haruhi? I've never been jealous of anyone, and I'm not starting now."

Leaning back in his chair, Tamaki steeped in his single moment of social clarity. For once in his life, he wasn't oblivious. He saw, plain as day, the emotions flickering in Kyoya's expression: false disdain, confusion, forced neutrality, a tinge of irritation, longing, and most of all... jealousy. "Refute me all you want, Kyoya, but I know what I see. You may have never been jealous of anyone before, but right here, right now? You're jealous of Haruhi."

The two of them sat in silence, locking eyes like horns, neither one backing down or apologizing for what they believed to be the truth. Every so often one of them would sip their tea, but otherwise, they simply stared and stood their ground.

Tamaki watched as the confusion took over Kyoya's countenance, the barest of furrows creasing his brow as his gaze unfocused, seemingly still meeting Tamaki's confident stare. As his best friend, Tamaki wanted to stay as long as it took for Kyoya to figure out whatever troubling thoughts swirled in his mind. He wouldn't- _couldn't_ just abandon him in a time of turmoil.

But Kyoya didn't know what to name the twisting, warping feeling in his stomach at the sound of Michiyo's laugh, the fluttering of his heartbeat when she teased him, or the heat in his ears when she smiled his way. He'd read enough books to fill a library, but in this instance...

Words failed him spectacularly. 


	12. Ch.11 - Pizza and Pop Tarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo and Haruhi studied together during the Host Club, drawing a large crowd and turning it into a show of sorts.   
> This did not please Kyoya, who watched on from the periphery. Tamaki sensed his best friend's distress and swooped in to help, only to figure out that the issue at hand was actually that... Kyoya was jealous of Haruhi.

🏵

Haruhi and I ate lunch together most days.

The garden and hedge maze were much more calm than the Host Club table in the busy cafeteria, and with summer approaching, everything was in full bloom. Fat little bumblebees ambled past us as we studied and ate, too full of nectar to bother anybody. Hummingbirds flit past, sipping on vibrant hibiscus flowers near the gazebo. It was the quietest place on campus to eat besides the library, except we could study and talk without getting in trouble or being overheard.

Plus, Haruhi and I had pre-calc together right after lunch on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, so it was easy to find each other, eat, then walk to class together.

One particular Friday in May, I plucked up the courage and blurted, "Haruhi, do you like pizza?"

She paused, and I face-palmed. That wasn't _at all_ what I'd meant to ask, but my nerves and Haruhi's natural beauty distracted me hardcore, so the wrong thing slipped out. _Like usual._

"Who doesn't like pizza?" she answered, digging into her bento box from home. "Why do you ask?"

Lifesaver. My favorite person on the planet. Literal goddess.

"Mei and I were wondering if you'd like to sleepover at our place tonight?" I asked, "It would be low-key, very chill. No caviar or champagne or ball gowns. Sweatpants, pizza, video games, probably ice cream. Have you ever tried pop tarts?"

"What's a pop tart?"

I feigned a mortal wound, and said, "Okay, well now you _have_ to come over, at least to try pop tarts. They're our favorite snack from the States."

Haruhi shrugged and nodded. "I'll have to let my dad know, but I don't think it'll be a problem. What time?"

"Whenever works for you," I grinned. A sleepover. _A real sleepover_ with a _real friend_. "If you text me your address, I can come and pick you up so you don't have to waste money on the bus or a taxi."

"Sure." Haruhi pulled her phone from her pocket and texted me right there and then, and glanced up at me, tucking some hair behind her ear. "You're sure I won't be a bother?"

Waving a nonchalant hand, I rolled my eyes. "Please, you'll be the most interesting thing to happen to our house since we got our dog. I wouldn't have asked if I thought you'd be a bother."

"I guess that's true," Haruhi mused. She beamed at me and plucked up her water bottle, holding out toward me across the table. "Well, I'm looking forward to our sleepover."

Restraining my glee, I tapped my water bottle against hers, and said, "Me too."

I didn't tell Haruhi that this would be my first sleepover ever.

I didn't want to scare her away.

🏵

_"KYOYA! HARUHI'S BEEN KIDNAPPED!"_

Rolling his eyes, Kyoya scrolled his laptop and said tiredly, "What makes you think that, Tamaki?" He plopped his cheek into his palm, elbow resting on his desk, and turned down the volume on his speakerphone. Searching for a topic for his and Michiyo's Social Psych midterm was boring, to say the least.

_"Her phone location puts her somewhere on the far side of town! And she's not answering when I call, or responding to my texts!"_ Tamaki cried, panicking. _"What if she's hurt, or worse, what if she was tricked into someone's car? What if... she's being defiled_ ** _right now_** _?"_ He growled and began muttering to himself unintelligibly.

Kyoya yawned and said, "What's the address?"

_"What?"_

"I said, 'what's the address where Haruhi's phone is located'?" Kyoya elaborated, noting a viable possibility for their midterm topic in his notebook with his careful handwriting. Tamaki scrambled to find the proper app from his end of the line, and read the address off to Kyoya, who chuckled in response. "Tamaki, there's no need to worry. That's the address for Kimura's house."

Tamaki said nothing for a long moment, until he finally asked, _"What is she doing at Kimura's house?"_ He didn't bother asking how Kyoya knew her address. Kyoya knew everything.

"I'm not sure. I don't keep tabs on everyone 24/7, Tamaki, you know that," Kyoya said, stifling another yawn. But in reality, they both knew that was only half true; Kyoya knew most of the hosts and their clients better than they knew themselves. "If I had to wager a guess, they're probably studying for precalculus. Or perhaps they're bonding."

Kyoya knew immediately that he'd said the wrong thing.

_"Bonding? With_ ** _my_** _Haruhi?"_ Tamaki gasped. _"Without_ ** _us_** _?"_

Groaning, Kyoya massaged his temples and waited for the incoming directive.

_"Kyoya! Ready the men! We're going_ **_bonding_ ** _."_

🏵

The doorbell rang, and I scrambled to my feet. "Be right back, it's probably the pizzas," I said, leaving Mei and Haruhi to play Mario Party without me. I had a two star lead, so I wasn't worried about missing a round or two.

Ellis and I bumped into each other on the way to the front door, and he raised an eyebrow - due to my outfit, or at seeing me away from my friend, I wasn't sure. Haruhi and I had changed into pajamas as soon as we got back to the house; I was in a pair of rolled over gray sweatpants, neon pink sports bra, and a cut-off black sweatshirt, revealing a thin slice of my stomach. Ellis's clear eyes kept drifting to my exposed skin, his wet hair leaving ghosts of moisture on his black sweatshirt.

"Pizza's here," I explained, jerking a thumb at the door.

He nodded and handed me the cash he'd prepared for the delivery person. "Let me know if you need help," Ellis said, his voice eerily serious.

"Sure thing," I answered with my most realistic, non-fake-looking smile.

_Thank god I'm an actor._

Crossing toward the door, I tried not to shiver under Ellis's lingering gaze.He began to climb the stairs behind me, his slow, heavy footfalls echoing in the entryway. I triple-checked the money before opening the door - just to make sure Ellis didn't forget the tip, because he had before, also slowing my frantic mind and giving him plenty of time to leave - and yanked our front door open.

Except, instead of a delivery person, the host club stood on my front steps.

In normal, non-school clothes.

Mori bent down, Honey beaming from atop his shoulders, Usa-chan on top of Honey's. "Chiyo-kun!" Honey said, "You have such a nice house! And I like your glasses!" Mori nodded in agreement, his hands firmly grasping Honey's ankles.

"Uh, thanks?" I managed, still a bit confused but catching up quickly. "What brings you guys here?" I didn't know what to do with my hands.

_What do you do with your hands when your personal boy band stops by for a surprise visit? Jazz hands? Peace signs? Crossed behind your back?_

_Send help._

The twins popped their heads up from the back of the group, pizzas distributed between the two of them. "We heard Haruhi was here," Hikaru said with a shrug.

"And that you two were _bonding_ ," Kaoru added with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

My cheeks flared white-hot at his innuendo, and I crossed my arms over my chest. "We're having a sleepover. That's what you do with your _friends_." I emphasized the word that might help him get it through his thick skull that I didn't have a crush on Haruhi, despite being pansexual. But Kaoru was kinda dumb, so I had a feeling I'd have to explain it to him with plain, clear words later.

Tamaki pouted from beside Kyoya, and said, "Then why weren't we invited?" The hurt in his voice and those damn puppy eyes of his pierced my heart and drove me to tell the truth.

_Damn you Tamaki and your stupid perfect innocent face._

"Okay! Fine! So I've never had a sleepover before!" I confessed, avoiding their eyes, "And I wanted to have a practice one with just Haruhi before I invited everyone over, because I was worried about what you guys would think of my place and my hostess skills."

_God it sucks to spill your guts._

No one said anything for a long time, so I stepped outside and took the pizzas from Hikaru and Kaoru and went back in, pausing just over the threshold. "You guys can come in if you want. But, just..." I searched for the right words. "Be gentle."

Mori was the first to move, ducking under the door frame so Honey and Usa-chan wouldn't hit their heads. He took off his fancy sneakers in the foyer and pried Honey's off too, mumbling a "thank you" to me when I offered them both a pair of house slippers. One by one, the rest of the hosts came inside, following Mori's example, and Kyoya filed in last, shutting the front door behind him.

Mochi bounded toward us from the den, suddenly aware of more people in her territory, and pranced around everyone's legs, begging for scratches and love. "Everyone, this is Mochi, resident scraps disposal and portable duster," I laughed, already starting to feel better. With a tilt of my head, I said, "Follow me to the den."

Ellis popped his head out of his room at the top of the stairs as we passed through the hall, his blonde mop covering his eyes. "Mi? You okay?" He ran a hand through his wet hair, as if in disbelief that I was suddenly surrounded by so many men.

I paused, arms full of pizza, and nodded up at him. "Turns out my reverse harem intercepted the pizzas on the way in. Not sure yet if they're sleeping over, but I'll keep you updated. Host club, this is Ellis, our driver-slash-bodyguard; Ellis, the host club." Without waiting for his response, I continued down the hall and into the den, where Mei and Haruhi were duking it out in an intense minigame. "Pizza's here! And I picked up some stragglers!"

Depositing the pizzas on the coffee table beside the spare plates and boxes of pop tarts and snacks I'd already set up, I gestured for the boys to help themselves, not forcing them to wait for Haruhi and Mei. They stood around awkwardly with their plates, looking around the room.

Serving myself some veggie slices, I settled onto the floor and shoveled food into my mouth at reckless speeds. "Problem?" I asked, eyeing the boys' strange postures.

"Are we not eating in your dining room?" Tamaki asked softly.

Hikaru spun on his heel, pointing at the table. "And why isn't there any silverware? How are we supposed to eat our pizza?" Kaoru elbowed him and hissed something in his ear that I didn't catch.

I tried and failed to stifle my laugh, and nearly spit half-chewed pizza all over the carpet. "We don't have a dining room, for one," I coughed, "And pizza is meant to be eaten with your hands. If you've been taught otherwise, then you were taught wrong." With a sweeping arm toward the couches, I said, "Sit wherever you'd like and dig in."

Mei kicked Haruhi's butt at the minigame, finally, and the two of them paused the game to grab pizza. Tamaki's cheeks flushed bright when he caught sight of Haruhi's pajamas - an oversized, black, matching top-and-bottom set with white polka dots - and I forced down the joy that built in my chest.

So _that's_ what was going on there.

"Want me to go bug Ellis?" Mei hovered over me, a sheepish expression on her face. I'd totally spaced on Mei. She needed to eat too.

"No," I immediately answered, "I can help. No big deal." I stood and placed my plate on the fireplace mantle so Mochi couldn't get to it. "I'll be back in a few minutes, make yourselves at home!"

Mei and I scrambled to the kitchen, and she ran to the fridge, digging out her meal for the night. Digging through Mei's special drawer beside the sink, I found a clean feeding tube and syringe, and we met at the kitchen table. "Wait," Mei said, her hand finding mine across the tabletop as I prepped her things, "Should I wait longer? What if I fall asleep?"

I shrugged. "So you fall asleep. Ellis or I will take you to your room, you can have a nap, and you can come back and join us when you're awake. No big deal."

She chewed her lip and sighed. "Fine, let's do this. I'm starving." Rolling the hem of her shirt up, Mei uncovered her g-tube and we got to work.

Lucky for us, we were skilled in the art of feeding tubes. When we were little, Mei called it her "tubey", which I always thought was cute. It'd be cuter if she didn't need it. But that wasn't up to her. It wasn't up to any of us.

When the syringe was full, the tube was in, and everything was locked into place, I got my grip set on the plunger and nodded at her. "Ready?"

She swallowed and settled into her chair, closing her eyes. "Paramore tonight, please." Her voice wobbled, the anxiety sinking in the same way it always did.

"Sure thing," I smiled. Humming the opening bars, I started in on her favorite Paramore song - Brighter - as I plunged the first syringe, timing it perfectly so that they ended at the same time. She took a breather while I closed off her tube, switched to the next syringe, and set the system up again.

The thought crossed my mind as I sang my favorite Paramore song - Last Hope - that maybe it wasn't normal to dip out of a sleepover to tube feed your sister... but it was _our_ normal. I didn't know any other way to live. Mei came first.

She always would.

🏵

Kaoru caught me in the kitchen as I washed out Mei's things, having already carried her upstairs to her room. "You alright, Michiyo?" he asked, hanging in the doorway, "You've been gone for a while, and we were getting worried."

I gave him the strongest smile I could muster up. "I'm fine, almost finished. Be there in a sec," I yawned.

He lingered, stepping into the kitchen with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "You don't... _seem_ fine," Kaoru muttered, eyes trained on the tile floor. "Wanna... talk about it?"

My hands stilled in the bubbly water. Kaoru wasn't usually so... thoughtful. I eyed him and chuckled. "Not really. It's not a big deal," I said. Rinsing off the last syringe, I checked everything in the drying rack and let the murky water out of the sink. After peeling off my rubber gloves one by one, I turned to the fridge and pulled out a handful of sodas in a variety of flavors, and tossed one to Kaoru. "Ready to try a pop tart?"

"I've never been more scared in my life," he laughed before following me back to the den.

🏵

Kyoya couldn't sleep.

He suspected that this might happen, as it usually did at other people's homes, so he came prepared. After everyone else fell asleep, zonked out on karaoke and soda and pop tarts all across Michiyo's den, Kyoya pulled out his tablet and opened his reading app, zoning into a hefty novel.

Somehow, Kyoya had ended up on the floor, which he supposed probably added to his inability to sleep. The snores and gentle breaths of his friends were oddly comforting, though, a soft white noise to read by. The twins took one of the couches nearby, and Haruhi and Honey took the smaller one, Mori and Tamaki volunteering to take the floor with Michiyo and Kyoya.

Every so often, Michiyo would roll over toward him, her face illuminated in the light from his tablet, and mutter something in her sleep, eyelash shadows dancing across her cheekbones. He'd look over at her, blurry without his glasses on, and wait until her murmuring stopped, ensuring she wasn't having a nightmare. Once, he pulled the blanket up higher over her shoulders when she shivered noticeably.

The creak of floorboards pulled Kyoya from his novel in the pre-dawn hours. He assumed it was Mei coming down to see if they were still awake, so he felt around for his glasses in the dark and blinked through the shadows at the figure in the den doorway.

Except it wasn't Mei.

It was... Ellis.

Kyoya stared at the man, questions bubbling up in his mind, and waited for him to leave. Something about the stance of the shadowed figure left a foul taste in Kyoya's mouth, set his teeth on edge, made him put a protective hand on Michiyo's arm. She didn't stir.

Ellis clenched his fist in the dark, slowly turned on his heel, and left.

Exhaling, Kyoya relaxed against the floor, not realizing how much tension he'd built up since Ellis's arrival. He removed his glasses once more and glanced at Michiyo, who continued to sleep with the smallest of smiles on her face.

Kyoya didn't sleep a minute the entire night. 


	13. Ch.12 - Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo invited Haruhi over for her first ever sleepover.   
> Of course, the rest of the host club found out and crashed the party, resulting in trying pop tarts, eating pizza without forks, playing video games and sleeping on the floor in Michiyo's den.   
> Kyoya couldn't sleep, so he read an e-book through the night, only to be startled by Ellis in the middle of the night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: some obscure PTSD related events at the beginning of the chapter, including guns and ski masks. 
> 
> If you find these things triggering, skip down to the first time you see quotation marks ("It's me, Michiyo,"). The rest will be safe. c:

🏵

Black ski masks.

The glint of silver through closet doors.

Ragged breaths.

The rustle of struggling against the tarp on the floor.

_BANG._

The tears. The tears.

The tears.

🏵

I woke in a cold sweat.

A hand gripped mine in the dark, and I startled, unable to see who it was without light or my glasses.

Still trapped in the dregs of my dream, I worried it was _them_. That it was _him._ That, after all these years, they were back for more.

"It's me, Michiyo," Kyoya whispered. I heard him fumbling around nearby, and he muttered, "It's okay, you're safe." Unbeknownst to me, he eyed my heaving chest, my wild eyes, the sheen of sweat across my forehead. He squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You were having a nightmare."

Sighing, I relaxed against my pillow and shoved my glasses on once Kyoya pressed them into my palm. "What time is it?" I murmured. The dark of the room had me thinking it was still the slippery, strange hours of night.

Kyoya checked his tablet with his free hand. "Nearly six."

An involuntary twitch rolled through me, making me grip Kyoya's hand a little harder, forcing me to remember his warm palm in mine. I managed a few deep inhales and exhales, slowing my erratic lungs and anchoring me to the present as the dream slipped away like morning fog. I rolled toward him, heart still pounding, and forced a weak smile. "Want to help me make breakfast?"

"Not sure how much help I can be," Kyoya yawned, "But... I suppose."

The two of us extricated ourselves from our blanket nest on the floor, careful not to disturb the rest of our friends, and shuffled to the kitchen. Kyoya hovered near the door while I began getting out the ingredients for homemade crepes (because I had some bougie-ass boys on my hands). He looked helplessly lost. "You don't cook," I said, more an observation than a question.

"Not really," he yawned, covering his mouth with a polite hand. "Never needed to."

A pang of jealousy shot through me, and I laughed dryly as I set the coffee pot and began to measure out ingredients. "Count yourself lucky, then," I mumbled to myself. "D'you like crepes?"

"Of course," Kyoya shrugged, eyeing the mountain of ingredients beside me. "Are... Is that what you're making?"

"No, no. That's what _we're_ making, Kyoya," I amended, shooting him a wink as I pulled my hair up into a messy bun. "Get your skinny ass over here and help me. I'm teaching you something new today, kid."

" _Kid?_ Michiyo, I assure you, I-"

"Shhhh," I grinned, dancing over and taking Kyoya's hand, pulling him deeper into the kitchen, "Let Mommy Michiyo do the talking now." I pressed a finger to his lips, locking my eyes with his. "Can you listen for a bit? Want to learn something real neat?"

For a long beat of silence, Kyoya said nothing but stared back at me with his gunmetal gray eyes. With a resigned sigh, he nodded, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Excellent. You're already an exceptional student, Kyoya, I can tell," I smirked, booping him on the nose as I spun away to fetch us aprons from the cupboard. Without a word, I looped his over his head and tied it for him before doing my own. "Now...

"Ready to get your hands dirty?"

🏵

Turns out that Kyoya is an exceptional sous chef.

And I mean that in the sincerest way possible.

The guy has no affinity for cooking whatsoever, except for when it comes to measuring ingredients, because it's so exact. But he _can_ follow directions, and he knows when he's out of his league to ask questions or for help rather than plowing forward and fucking everything up like most people would.

So yeah... I'd cook with him again.

The Host Club liked the crepes we prepared, and apparently my coffee wasn't too shabby either. In Tamaki's words, "Well, it's not commoner's coffee... but I'll drink it."

"It's palatable," agreed Hikaru with a smirk.

Kaoru nodded, pinky up, and said, "Indubitably."

I rolled my eyes, sipping my black coffee at one end of the couch. "Just eat your damn breakfast and get out of my house." At that point, roughly mid-morning, I was one eventful activity away from all drop-kicking them into the next zip code. No wonder I never had people over...

It was _exhausting._

"But we didn't get to see your room yet, Chiyo-kun!" Honey pouted from the other end of my couch, all four of his strawberry crepes completely annihilated. "I bet it's super cute, just like you!" Mori nodded quietly beside him, staring at our bookshelves.

Haruhi sat up from her spot on the floor and frowned at me. "Hey, yeah. We hung out down here all night... I never saw your room. Not even during the tour of the house."

"You got a tour, Haruhi? You lucky, lucky girl," Tamaki crowed, hugging her to his chest as he pointed at me with a savage finger. "What kind of host doesn't give their guests a tour of their home?!"

Now all eyes were on me, whether I liked it or not. "Uh... well, I guess if it's going to be like, _a problem_ , then..." I sighed, ruffling my hair. "I'll show you my room after breakfast." _Stupid friends make my boundaries go right out the window._ Okay, maybe 'boundaries' isn't the right word...

Barriers? Walls? Whatever, _you know what I mean._

"I'm done!" Honey cheered, getting up from the couch and running his plate to the kitchen. Mori sighed and followed after him at his usual sloth-like pace, only slowing to shoot me a pitying look.

The twins shot to their feet. "Us too!" They shot from the den like bullets from a gun, following Mori and Honey.

Which left me, Kyoya, Haruhi, and Tamaki. Mei had yet to come downstairs, and I wasn't certain why. I sipped my coffee quietly, scrolling my social media pages (at least the ones I was given access to). Apparently my public relations manager decided to post something on my instaface account for me yesterday: a picture of me and my fake boyfriend, totally not photoshopped or anything.

_How nice. Love that._

I sighed and closed the app, ignoring the thousands of likes and millions of comments. Most of them were bots anyway.

"Everything alright?" Kyoya asked, seated on the opposite couch with his leg crossed over the other, daintily eating his crepes.

"Fine," I shrugged, hoisting myself to my feet. _Not fine, but whatever._ I stretched, letting loose an ugly yawn as I did, and shlorped off toward the stairs like the grumpy bog monster I felt like. "Anyone that wants to see my room should follow me now, otherwise you're never seeing it again."

Thundering footsteps echoed behind me.

I spoke without looking, knowing that the hosts would fall in line behind me, and watching as the few that took their plates to the kitchen gathered round. "The only rule of Michiyo's bedroom is simple: if you have nothing nice to say, then don't say anything at all," I said, already taking the stairs by twos, "Or have the decency to say it when I'm clear out of earshot. Got it?"

"Roger dodger!"

"Aye aye, captain!"

The rest were affirmative murmurs. _Whatever. I'll take what I can get._

We stalled in front of my door, simple white with a nameplate Mei made for me in art class a few years ago; my name was surrounded by gold sparkles and cherry blossoms, because at the time, pink and gold were my favorite colors. My hand rested on the fake-gold knob, trembling with a sudden onslaught of nerves.

_Why was I freaking out?_

_They're my friends... right?_

I took a deep breath and threw the door open, leaving the answers open to fate. "Go ahead, I guess," I sighed, leaning against the wall in the hall as they filed in one at a time.

They were pretty quiet at first, and I assumed it was because they were absorbing the sheer... un-me-ness of the room; the walls were petal pink with white trim and doors (a remnant of my childhood), and most of my stuff matched: pink comforter, pink sheets, pink carpet, pink drapes... It was like living in a Barbie dreamhouse.

And not a fun one.

But thankfully, they zoned in on the pieces of the real me scattered around the overwhelming amount of ruffles and tulle. Honey was the first to pipe up, with, "You paint, Chiyo-kun?"

"Yeah, I've always been the artsy type," I said, scooting into the doorframe. Seeing the host club in my room had me suddenly aware of how small my house was compared to theirs probably... the seven of them could hardly move around without bumping into one another. Haruhi luckily took refuge on my bed beside a bouncy Honey-senpai, and Kyoya deposited himself into my desk chair, but even still, the standing group was elbow to elbow.

"These are exceptional," Kyoya said evenly, fingering through the painted canvases I had leaning in the corner of my room. He glanced up at me, and added, "You have a real talent, Michiyo."

I fought against the rising heat in my cheeks and hung my head, crossing my arms defensively. The compliment seemed sincere, from _Kyoya_ of all people. _Mr. I-don't-have-real-emotions._ "Thanks," was all I could manage before I noticed Mori perusing my books.

He pulled one off of the shelf and nodded approvingly at the cover, holding it up for me to read. _Small Steps_ by Louis Sachar. "Have you read this?" he said, watching my expression.

"It's one of my favorites," I answered honestly, "I've read it probably fifteen times."

Mori didn't say anything else, but nodded before putting the book back. I guess that was an acceptable answer. I'd have to ask him later...

"MICHIYO!"

Rolling my eyes, I looked over to where Hikaru and Kaoru were pointing at my trophy shelf over my window, their eyes and smiles wide. "Can we touch your Oscar?" Kaoru asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Please please _please?!_ " Hikaru added, bouncing up and down on his heels.

"I would really rather you di-"

"THANKS MICHIYO!" The twins easily clambered up to snatch my Oscar down from my shelf and held it like a baby between the two of them, making awed noises and cooing over it. I face-palmed.

Haruhi sat up on my bed and pulled Tamaki out of the way to sit beside her. "You guys, put that back! Michiyo doesn't want you touching it!"

"She said it was fine!" Hikaru pouted, running his fingers over the trophy idly.

Kyoya swiveled around to face the boys and shook his head disapprovingly. "Actually, you cut her off before she could answer. I believe she was going to say 'no' before you so rudely interrupted," he explained.

Kaoru whipped his head around to gape at me, aghast. "Michiyo! Is this true?" He had the audacity to look hurt, when everything Kyoya said was right on the money.

"Yeah, actually," I sighed, "Please put it back."

"B-but...?" Kaoru matched Hikaru's pout, both of them aiming their sad expressions at me with 100% power, making me 200% pissed off.

"Put it back. Now, Kaoru," I said, standing my ground.

His face screwed up in frustration and he clicked his tongue. "You're such a buzzkill, Chiyo." But just as Kaoru and Hikaru turned toward my shelf to put my award back, Hikaru got caught on my rug and tripped, the Oscar going down with him.

It cracked in two upon connecting with the carpet.

Silence rattled through the room as I tried and failed to bottle up my irritation.

"...I think it's time for everyone to leave." 


	14. Ch.13 - Unafraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo awoke from a nightmare with Kyoya there to soothe her. To distract herself, they snuck to the kitchen and Michiyo taught Kyoya how to make crepes.  
> After breakfast, the host club guilted Michiyo into showing them her room before they left. At first everything went well, until Hikaru and Kaoru spied Michiyo's trophy shelf and her Oscar. They broke it, and Michiyo made everyone go home...

🏵

The end of the semester descended upon us with all the grace of a natural disaster.

Picture this: mysterious, faceless kids crawled out of the woodwork, suddenly asking for tutors when they'd been skipping class the whole semester; the dress code fell by the wayside in favor of sweatpants, sneakers, and comfort; tensions ran high in the halls and in classrooms, students snapping at one another like hissing cobras or bursting into tears at a moment's notice.

I went straight into anxiety/survival mode: battening down the hatches (AKA going silent, ignoring everyone except essential people), stocking up on supplies (living off of coffee and protein bars I stashed in my backpack), and conserving energy (only performing the necessary functions to look like I was still an operational human). Finals week was a disaster zone, and I was determined to survive it... hopefully emerging alive _and_ with good grades.

With my luck and my fucked up school schedule, I had _ten_ final exams or final projects to submit; each of my eight classes had one or the other, but Intermediate Latin and Social Psych had _both_ an exam and a project, which obliterated my sleep schedule more than anything else. Luckily, Kyoya helped pick up my slack in Social Psych so I could focus on Latin a little more. And he said I held my own in our other classes, so we studied together fairly often during lunch or during breaks.

Thanks to my scattered brain and panic attacks about failing, I'd actually finished my Japanese Lit and Painting final projects a few weeks early, so that bought me a little spare time in both classes to study for other things and catch up with Haruhi, the twins, and Tamaki.

Plus, on top of trying to pass my classes - and generally be a badass at everything - the host club was planning an end of semester party of some kind (I don't know what exactly, I kinda spaced out during the meeting), and I had the summer orchestra concert to perform at as well.

Needless to say, I stretched myself way too thin.

And apparently, that was obvious.

"You don't look so good."

Mori towered over me, stretching as we prepped for our final assessment in our kendo class. He looked totally fine. Calm, cool, collected, as per usual.

In that moment, I hated him. "You don't say," I muttered sarcastically, brushing my washed out hair away from my face as I tied it up in a loose bun.

"Kimura," he chided as I tried to run away, his gigantic hand clapping down on top of my head and rotating me to look at him, "Seriously. You need to take care of yourself."

I let out a deflated sigh, my shoulders slumping, and pursed my lips. "I'll get right on that, Mori senpai... Just as soon as life stops being stressful and my parents quit involving themselves in my crap and I stop overloading myself with too many commitments, and... oh? Oh right, that'll be never." I yawned, as if to emphasize my exhaustion levels.

He frowned at me, like a grumpy giraffe, and I nearly laughed because I started imagining him in a giraffe costume. Then I started imagining the rest of the hosts as jungle animals for a day, like as a party for the Club, and _wow, sleep deprivation much?_

"Honey," Mori said lowly.

Like magic, Honey senpai appeared at Mori's side, chipper and vibrant as always. "Takashi? What's going on?"

"Kimura isn't feeling well," Mori lied straight to Honey's face. Because his hand still gripped my head, he turned me to face Honey then, giving my temples a squeeze as if to urge me to do something sickly.

I did not oblige.

"You aren't?!" Honey wailed, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked me over, "What's wrong, Chiyo?! Flu? Chicken pox? A cold? The kissing disease???" He flitted around me, as if he could sense my illness with some superpower, examining me head to toe.

Waving a nonchalant, lazy hand, I sighed, "It's really nothing, Honey senpai. I'm just overworked from finals."

"What? Why?" Honey paused, looking at me as if I'd said I had dragon flu or something ridiculous. "How?"

I blanched, furrowing my brows at him. "Uh, because I have ten finals or projects? Plus, the club's doing... that thing...? And I have ten pieces to finish memorizing for the summer orchestra concert," I explained (complained).

Mori and Honey exchanged a look that I couldn't quite read - maybe from exhaustion, or maybe just because they were that close - and Honey nodded to Mori. "Do it," he said, voice deadly serious and scarily strict.

EXcUsE ME??!

"Wh-what's happening right now?" I blurted, just as Mori swept his arm beneath my knees, catching me up in his arms and holding me to his chest. "Mori, I-"

"Shhh," he whispered, watching as Honey trotted off toward the instructor, "Pretend to sleep."

I mean... you don't gotta tell me twice.

The only trouble was once I closed my eyes, all snuggled up to Mori's wide, warm, sturdy chest, rocked by the motion of him carrying me from the kendo classroom, I really did fall asleep.

And I slept better than I had in...

Well, since the sleepover.

🏵

Mori, Honey, and I didn't discuss the napping incident.

There wasn't anything to say.

Well, I did thank them for the save. But they really just prolonged my kendo assessment. And, I mean, I passed.

But I definitely didn't set the curve like those two did, those poopheads.

After that two hour bonus nap, my life kinda reset. I had just a little more energy, crushed my upcoming finals, and felt generally pretty good about how things were going.

Until the night of the summer orchestra concert.

I'd texted the Host Club to remind them that I was busy that night - because you never really knew when Tamaki would try to FaceTime for funsies - and nervously picked at a fraying string in the hem of my black dress pants as Ellis drove me and Mei back to Ouran that night. Mei held my hand in the back seat, giving me gentle squeezes of reassurance every so often.

Ellis kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, even though I was trying to use it to check my new hair - white, per the movie director's instructions - and my pale pink lipstick. "You'll be great, Mi," Ellis said, pulling up to the front curve of the building, where a long line of limousines waited to drop off their passengers, "Don't stress."

"Thanks, Ellis," I smiled back weakly, eyeing the line of waiting cars. "I'm just gonna hop out here. I can jog faster than this."

I popped open the door before either of them could argue, and all I heard before slamming the door behind me was Mei's rebuttal of, "Don't get sweaty!"

Laughing, I trotted up toward the front doors of the school, keeping Mei's reminder at the forefront of my mind, and adjusted my white button-up as I breached the hall. Families lingered in the marble entry, sipping on sparkling cider and reading the program as they waited for the orchestra hall to open. I smiled at anyone I made eye contact with as I wove through the crowd, beelining for the music room.

"Michiyo!"

A hand fell on my shoulder, and I jumped a mile in my shiny black oxfords. Turning slowly, I found the Host Club dressed to the nines behind me, all gripping programs and champagne flutes. Kaoru squeezed my shoulder, and I zoned in, realizing that they were... they were really there. "You okay?" he chuckled.

"Uh, I think so," I nodded, "Why are you guys here?" A sputtering laugh hissed out of Kyoya of all people, and I hesitantly smiled at his uncharacteristic frivolity. "What? What did I say?"

"Too blunt," Mori explained, sipping his sparkling cider with a faint smile.

Honey beamed from between Mori and Tamaki, and said, "We're here to see you, silly! We want to support you!"

My heart stopped in my chest. "I- you-" I couldn't find words. The only person who showed up to my stuff was Mei, and even then, she didn't always come to my performances because of the noise or the lights or the people... My parents hadn't come to one of my performances since elementary school. And Ellis usually waited in the car. "Really?" I blurted, strange, unnamable tears blurring my vision and warping my voice.

"Of course we came, Michiyo," Haruhi smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. Her gentle, supportive smile nearly crushed my heart as she added, "You're one of us, now."

A strangled sob fell out of me, totally unwarranted, and the Host Club surrounded me in a group hug that embarrassed the shit out of me. "S-stop," I hiccuped between sobs, thanking the gods that I'd decided to wear waterproof makeup for the concert, "You guys are so e-embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?" Hikaru chirped from his place between Kaoru and Kyoya.

"Us?" Kaoru added.

" _Never,_ " they finished in unison, squeezing all of us tighter and eliciting a round of groans and complaints and giggles from everyone.

"Okay, okay," I sniffled, wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands, "I gotta get to the practice room. You... You guys are the best. Really. This was the best surprise ever. I hope... This one's for you. Okay?" I untangled myself from everyone's arms and jogged off toward Music Room 1 to grab my cello and get ready, my heart so full of love and friendship that I was sure that I was dreaming.

🏵

In the audience, just before the concert, Mei spotted the Host Club and waved them down. She saved them a whole row of seats beside her and Ellis, much to his chagrin. Everyone got comfortable, and Mei showed them the bouquet of lilies she'd snuck in to surprise Michiyo with after the concert.

Hikaru and Kaoru busied themselves with the concert program, reading it cover to cover, and shouted, "HEY!"

The Hosts crowded around, and Kaoru said, "They're having a contest! Whoever can name the source material for all of the songs and submits their program to the raffle afterwards could win a getaway for four to a hot springs, all expenses paid!"

"Source material?" Kyoya asked, examining his own program.

Hikaru grinned devilishly. "It's a pop culture themed concert. All of their music is from movies, video games, songs, commercials..."

Kyoya's heart sank in his chest. "Great."

"We've got this in the bag," Kaoru smirked, shrugging his shoulders and settling into his seat beside Hikaru.

"And when we win, we're taking Haruhi and Michiyo to the hot springs," Hikaru finished, shooting Tamaki an evil grin.

With the gauntlet thrown, a competitive rift cracked between the Host Club members. Haruhi watched on in confusion as the boys busted out their phones and frantically downloaded Shazam, still speaking with Mei at the end of their row. "Any idea what's happening over there?" she asked.

Mei shook her head and sipped on her drink. "Don't know, don't care."

"Agreed," Haruhi laughed, gasping as the lights flickered overhead.

Ellis, capping the end of their row, muttered to no one in particular, "It's almost time."

🏵

As part of the string quartet, I sat front and center with the group, nearly right in front of the conductor. Our six pieces were sprinkled throughout the arrangements with the rest of the orchestra, and for each quartet piece, we had to stand to differentiate ourselves from the rest of the group.

Well, the others stood. I still sat. But you know what I mean.

It was more nerve wracking than any movie or audition I'd ever done.

And it probably didn't help that my hair was white, setting me apart from everyone else. I could practically hear the whispers, the pointing. My name was listed in the program, too. Everyone knew who I was, and despite going to a school full of famous or famous-adjacent people, no one knew how to handle celebrity.

_Just treat me like everyone else. It's not that hard._

The quartet's first piece was the theme from _Howl's Moving Castle_ \- a favorite of mine - and it really showcased my cello among the interwoven higher strings. It wasn't hard to get lost in the music, closing my eyes and going entirely off of muscle memory, only glancing at the sheet music when I stumbled or heard the others turning the page.

Our second piece was the hardest one, in my opinion, the theme from _The Princess Bride_. I didn't have traditional playing to do at the beginning, but rather drum-like plucking beneath the violin and viola, which meant that I had to focus super hard to keep the rhythm and pace of the piece so we didn't get lost.

Third, we played the opening theme from _Sailor Moon_. A classic. Honestly, a hype song in its own right. But as a classical song, it made my heart swoon and think of the amazing romance between Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask...

_Wait... Why did we pick so many romantic pieces?_

Fourth, Rika and I chose _Kiss from a Rose_ by Seal.

You were there. Remember? What's the deal? What the fu-

Okay, fifth was _Paparazzi_ by Lady Gaga. Just a banger, and absolutely 100% not- hang on. That's kinda romantic too in a creepy, weird way. _What even?_

The quartet's final piece was _Still Alive_ from Portal. My favorite piece of the night. It got stuck in my head all the time, just because it was so bubbly and fun and bouncy and upbeat. But even then... IT WAS FROM VSQ's WEDDING ALBUM.

WEDDINGS ARE ROMANTIC TOO!

What is wrong with us??? Why'd we pick all romantic songs?

Wait...

_I picked all of those._

Pondering the possible reasoning behind this subconscious choice between songs, I chewed my lip just as the conductor stepped up for the final piece. She nodded to me, and my eyes widened. _Oh fuck. I forgot._

Leaning my cello down to the ground, I swiped my sweaty hands across my black pants and took a steadying breath as I deliberately slowed my pace to the lone microphone at the head of the stage. The lights lowered, basking us in shadow. And I began, a lone voice in the dark, my eyes fixed on a neutral point at the back of the room.

_Now everything has come to rest...  
_ _The end has come and I am not afraid_

A single spotlight hummed to life, glowing over me as I conquered my solo, as I commandeered the stage, as my voice hovered hauntingly in the void.

_We travel on towards a new beginning  
_ _We slip away, and we are unafraid_

One by one, sopranos and altos joined me at first, bolstering my voice with theirs. But as each stanza added on, baritones, tenors, and bass tones sifted in, anchoring and adding to the creep factor.

_We're born apart, the waters carry us  
_ _An endless dark in sovereign galaxies_

The lights slowly raised, revealing the entire orchestra standing behind me, everyone holding hands with the person beside them. Hella creepy.

_The light we cast creates a bridge  
_ _And guides the way across the ages deep_

We wanted to surprise the audience with a choral piece, totally unexpected for an orchestral concert. Plus, it was even creepier and - dare I say - cooler that we did it a capella.

_I see them all, I see them dancing  
_ _In the endless numbers of the night_

As the song amped up the weirdness factor, I slowly raised my gentle, cupped hand toward the darkened audience, as if asking them to join us.

_I love you in the ebbing of the tide  
_ _I love you in the quiet inner lands  
_ _I love you in the garden of butterflies_

Behind me, the rest of the orchestra raised their hands similarly, asking the audience to join in our creepy party.

_Now everything has come to rest  
_ _The end has come and I am not afraid  
_ _We travel on towards a new beginning  
_ _We slip away and we are unafraid_

In the end, the lights faded, and it was only me upon the stage once more. My hand outstretched. My voice alone. My mind and heart totally at peace and at agreement.

_We slip away..._  
and we are unafraid...  
 _Unafraid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end is The Light We Cast by Jessica Curry (from Everybody's Gone to the Rapture). 
> 
> And with this chapter, we're all caught up to Wattpad!  
> Whenever I update on Wattpad, I will also update here.  
> There wouldn't be any differences between the updates, so don't worry there.


	15. Ch.14 - Thank You and I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, the end of the semester fell upon Ouran with all the grace of a natural disaster. Michiyo suffered spectacularly, mostly due to her parents saddling her with so many responsibilities (extracurriculars) and classes.   
> At the end of the chapter, Michiyo performed in the summer orchestra concert; the host club showed up to support her, which made her cry...

🏵

Summer break agreed with Kyoya Ootori.

Yawning as sunrise approached, Kyoya typed away on his laptop in the dark, researching future colleges and universities with his majors and minors. His father had it all planned out already, but Kyoya wanted - no, _needed_ \- to find just the right school to help him graduate early with all of the same credentials. To do it his own way while still following the rules. It was the weekend, so he had all the time in the world to spend his free time how he saw fit. And he wanted to select his future university himself.

His phone vibrated beside him, illuminating the white down comforter below. Kyoya didn’t bother to check it until it buzzed again. And again.

_A phone call? At this hour?_

Flipping his screen right-side up, Kyoya squinted through the blinding glare to read the caller ID before answering. “Michiyo? What-?”

“ _Kyoya, thank god._ ” Her voice came out high and thready, a wild edge to it that scared him. “ _I was out on a run with Mochi and… and someone’s following me._ ”

Kyoya sat up straight, throwing off his covers. “Is it the stalker? Paparazzi?” He swung himself out of bed, rapidly pulling on clothes without paying much attention to color or fabric. “Are you safe?”

“ _I don’t know, but I’m fine for now,_ ” Michiyo answered, voice wavering, “ _They were taking pictures… I’m hiding in a convenience store on the corner of Sakura and Ichigo._ ”

“Okay, good,” Kyoya nodded, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear as he yanked socks on, “I’ll be there in five minutes. You… you’re doing great, Michiyo. Stay calm and stay where you are. If you want, you can stay on the other line while I call my family’s security team. Just pretend you’re talking to Mei or your fake boyfriend or whoever.” He threaded a belt through his pants haphazardly and broke out of his room, slippers slapping on the hardwood floors.

“ _Sure._ ” She paused, silence emphasizing his heavy breathing as he tore through his cavernous mansion. “ _Kyoya?_ ”

“Hm?”

“ _Thank you. And I’m sorry._ ”

Kyoya didn’t know how to respond, his feet slowing to a stop at his front door. He cleared his throat, shaking his mind loose from its clouded thoughts, and answered, “Don’t.” He flew across his driveway, throwing himself into the backseat of the waiting car. The driver yawned as they sped away, Kyoya’s fingers already dancing across his phone, dialing the Black Onion Squad. His heart slammed around in his chest like a pinball, ricocheting off of his lungs and ribs and diaphragm. She had to be safe. She’d be safe for a few more minutes.

She had to be okay.

His words came out venomous and hot, spitting instructions to the first person who answered the security line. They deployed a small team to the convenience store and said they’d be there in minutes.

It wasn’t fast enough.

Kyoya slid an exasperated hand through his hair and let his eyes flutter closed for a moment before hanging up.

“ _...and then he said to me ‘sounds fake’ in that deep, grumbly voice he has. I can’t believe he called me a liar like that!_ ”

Kyoya stifled a laugh, relaxing in the back seat. Michiyo was monologuing, pretending to talk to someone as he patched back into her call. “So then what did you do?” he answered, the heat leaching from his voice as he listened to her. He was only a minute out from the convenience store, and if he craned his neck just right he could see it down the block.

Michiyo laughed, the tone all wrong. “ _I provided evidence of course. How else do you persuade someone of your honesty?_ ”

“Evidence sounds like the right course of action to me,” Kyoya nodded. Despite his cheerful pitch, his emotions stormed on the inside, his brain consumed with questions. _Was she alright? Was the person gone? How long had she been there? Why was she running at this hour?_

And why did she call him of all people?

Michiyo continued nervous talking, a strange backdrop to the intense scene. Kyoya jumped out of the car the instant they pulled up, his heart and his head at war; his heart told him to run to her, make sure she was alright that _very instant_ , while his brain told him to keep his cool, walk in like nothing was wrong, keep the act up and be the voice of reason. His mind won out.

He found Michiyo and Mochi in the back near the beverage cases, her phone still held up to her ear, even though Kyoya had stopped responding a while ago, his phone forgotten in his clammy palm at his side. Mochi noticed him first, bounding up to him with a wagging tail and bright eyes. “Hello again, Mochi,” Kyoya muttered, scratching that spot just between Mochi’s ears, how she liked.

🏵

I heard a voice, much lower and closer than I anticipated.

My sneaker squeaked on the linoleum as I turned, finding Kyoya knelt on the floor, scratching Mochi between the ears. Despite how scared I was, a smile found its way to my face. He was more disheveled than I’d ever seen him - his dark hair ruffled, his clothes rumpled, even his shoes mismatched. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked like my knight in shining armor… and I loved everything about him.

I couldn’t appreciate him more.

“You found me,” I whispered.

Kyoya’s head popped up, squinting at me in the harsh glare of the refrigerator cases. The smallest smile tilted his lips and he stood, immediately towering over me. “Of course,” he nodded, his sharp gray eyes unwavering. Feeling exposed in my black yoga pants and neon yellow sports bra under his watchful gaze, I crossed my arms over my chest. Kyoya noticed and shrugged out of his hoodie, passing it to me in one fluid movement. “Here.”

As I pulled his sweatshirt on, trying to ignore the smell of his peppery cologne, he took Mochi from me, and laced his hand into mine. “We’re going now,” Kyoya said, tilting his head toward the door, “The car is out front.”

My heart climbed to my throat, choking off my words and air. All I could manage was a nod, fearing that he could feel my hand trembling in his. He led me and Mochi out of the convenience store, only slowing to stink-eye the sleepy teen at the checkout counter and yank his hood up over my head before heading into the parking lot.

We were instantly bombarded by people, cameras flashing. A handful of curious bystanders mixed into a swarm of paparazzi, straining against helmeted officers in all black. Kyoya pulled me through the crowd, ushering me into the town car waiting for us. “Stay here,” he instructed, passing me Mochi with careful hands, “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded, overwhelmed, and watched him shut the door with a heavy heart. He turned, immediately overtaken by officers, and kept his cool as he spoke with them. Photographers continued to take pictures, even without me outside, their bulbs flashing and reflecting off of the wet pavement.

Mochi wiggled out of my grasp, stomping around the back seat before curling up in a fluffy poof and falling asleep. I envied her naivety.

With an exhale that felt like it deflated me entirely, I rested my head against the icy car window and watched Kyoya. The billboard above the convenience store painted the planes of his face in shimmering pastels, his furrowed brow and intelligent eyes thrown into sharp contrast by shadow and neon. As if he knew I was looking, Kyoya paused and flicked his gaze to the car. I slammed my eyes shut and prayed that the windows were tinted.

But as the seconds ticked by, I inched closer to sleep the longer I had my eyes closed. The emotional turmoil of the night overtook me like a wave and pulled me down deep.

🏵

Kyoya sighed and collapsed into the car beside Michiyo, slamming the door behind him with finality. Paparazzi surged forward, trying to snap pictures of the inside of the car, but the driver was already peeling out of the parking lot, leaving them all in their wake.

“Where to, sir?” the driver asked, glancing at Kyoya in the rearview mirror.

He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Kyoya glanced at the sleeping Michiyo beside him, the snoozing Mochi curled up between them, and considered the knotting in his stomach. Emotions aside, he would drive her home; but… something didn’t feel right.

Logic be damned.

“Home,” Kyoya said finally, letting himself relax into the backseat with an arm over his tired eyes.

“Let’s go home.” 


	16. Ch.15 - When It Rains, It Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo called Kyoya in the middle of the night because someone was following her during her run. She hid out in a convenience store, and Kyoya rushed over with the Black Onion Squad to help... 
> 
> But what will happen in the daylight, now that the adrenaline of the moment has worn off...?

🏵

A strange sound shook me out of my dream. 

And thank goodness, too. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve handled seeing the host club in ballgowns. I mean, Haruhi was obviously gorgeous, and strangely enough, so was Tamaki… but Mori in a ballgown is something I will never erase from my retinas. 

Very boney. 

Summer sun blinded me as soon as I opened my stinging eyes, piercing through a wall of undeterred windows. I hissed and threw an arm over my face, regretting waking up in the first place. But something caught my attention, enticed me further out of the haze of sleep…

A smell. 

I hesitated to remove the arm protecting my eyes, but reached out with my other senses. Cologne, peppery and familiar but unnamable through the fog of sleep. A strange blanket under my fingers, the bed itself much comfier than my own. Only the taste of dreams and sleep lingered in my mouth. And again… that sound. Listening harder, pushing myself, I finally placed it. 

Snoring, soft and muffled. 

Too sleepy to be scared, I sat up and blinked through the brightness, willing my eyes to adjust. The bedroom around me was definitely not mine, painted in muted grays and whites. Bookshelves lined most of the walls, but otherwise, the room was sparsely decorated. A glass half-wall separated the bed from another part of the room, but I didn’t have the energy to explore just yet. 

I was too distracted by the sleeping boy in the armchair in the corner of the room. 

Kyoya. 

The memory of the night previous flooded back, knocking the air from my lungs. 

A run. The convenience store. Mochi. 

My call with Kyoya. His sweatshirt. 

_ The stalker.  _

A shiver rolled over me, cold as ice in my veins. My eyes burned, contacts still in, and I searched frantically for my phone. If this was Kyoya’s room -  _ Kyoya’s house! _ \- that meant I spent the night, which meant Mei was probably freaking out. 

_ Worst sister ever. _

When I couldn’t find the stupid thing in the twisted down comforter, I stood and checked under the bed before wandering Kyoya’s room, careful not to touch his stuff. Buzzing met my ears as I got closer to him, though, and I hesitated, eyeing his crumpled, sleeping form. Kyoya had his legs pulled to his chest in the chair, curled up in a ball. He gripped my phone in one hand, his own phone in the other, and one of them seemed to be vibrating in his palm. His glasses rested on the nearest bookshelf. 

He looked young. Peaceful. 

The most vulnerable I’d ever seen him. 

And then my phone rang. 

Sharp electronic music screeched out of my phone, bass and treble getting horribly lost in the shitty speakers, but loud and awful enough to wake up Kyoya with a jolt and terrify me, sending me to my ass with a bone-jarring  _ thunk _ . Kyoya and I stared at each other for a long, awkward moment; he seemed to remember more and more as we sat there, as his gaze slowly focused on my face. 

“Do you want your glasses?” I asked softly, worried I’d frighten him. 

He sleepily raised a hand to his face - checking that, indeed, his glasses were not there - and nodded. I scrambled to my feet and crossed to the bookshelf, stuffing down my surprise at this side of Kyoya. He was definitely not a morning person. 

Muttering a thank you, he shoved his glasses on and managed to poke himself in the eye the first time, hissing as he successfully guided them on the second. 

I didn’t even laugh. Okay, maybe a little, but just on the inside.

Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and mumbled to himself as my phone began to ring again, making us both jump. He snarled and thrust my device at me, standing and fumbling down his stairs, disappearing into the unknown. 

I hesitated before answering my phone, worried about Kyoya, but when I saw Mei’s name on my screen, I jumped on the button like it was on fire. “Mei?” 

_ “You are  _ **_so_ ** _ dead!” _ she screamed,  _ “You can’t sleepover at a boy’s house!” _

Laughter bubbled up out of me before I could stop it. “I didn’t have much say in the matter,” I admitted with a weak yawn in the middle, “And how did you know about that?” 

_ “Kyoya called me last night,” _ she answered simply. I could practically hear her shrug over the phone.  _ “He explained the situation, said he’d bring you back in the morning. But when I told Ellis this morning, he freaked out even worse than he already was, and he’s been calling you non-stop, but he said your voicemail box was full.” _

Holding the phone away from my ear, I checked, and she was right. “Looks like he’s left me twelve messages between when Kyoya picked me up and right now.” 

_ “What a freak.” _

“Agreed,” I sighed, settling onto the end of Kyoya’s bed. I spied his sweatshirt from the night before and slithered into it, covering my exposed stomach and warming up. “Tell Ellis to take a chill pill and I’ll be home soon.” 

_ “Mmmkay. I want all of the details later. Also, make sure Mochi is okay.” _

“Mochi’s just fine,” I chuckled, “See you later. I love you.” 

_ “Gross. Love you too.”  _

Mei hung up before I could, and the dread seeped in when I realized that I didn’t  _ actually  _ know where Mochi was. Stowing my phone in the pouch of Kyoya’s sweatshirt, I stumbled around his room once more, calling for Mochi and looking like an idiot. I even crept down the stairs, searching for her in Kyoya’s den space amongst the angular, white couches and simple furniture. 

Imagine my surprise when I found canvasses hidden behind his dresser, paints and brushes in a basket on the floor nearby. Just another thing I didn’t know about Kyoya, but that made him seem a little more human… an artist just like me.  _ Cute.  _

“She’s downstairs,” Kyoya said, his tone flat and low as he interrupted my snooping/exploring for Mochi. I spun on my heel and found him standing in an open doorway, gesturing for me to follow and looking incrementally more awake. “Hungry?” he asked. 

It didn’t matter if I was. I followed anyway. 

I tried not to gawk too much as Kyoya led me through his house… but  _ holy shit _ , you guys, his house makes mine look like a Polly Pocket dollhouse. And mine was not a nice one, either… More like a broken hand-me-down from your cousin you think might be haunted; my dollhouse smells faintly of fish and mold, there’s a mysterious fluid in one corner that you don’t dare touch because it’s been moving when you look away, and the Pollys rebelled and spray painted graffiti all over the inside somehow. 

Kyoya’s house, on the other hand, was fancier than any LA mansion or movie set I’d ever seen. The floors transitioned seamlessly from glossy hardwood to polished marble and back. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling in absolutely unnecessary locations - including the half-bathroom I used on our way downstairs (spoiler alert: it was bigger than my bedroom and positively immaculate). Each sterile, white room we passed had one use only: the piano room, the library, the sitting room, the ballroom, the  _ informal _ dining room, the  _ formal  _ dining room… 

I couldn’t help but wonder what the penalty for eating informally in the formal dining room would be. Maybe they made you eat the rest of your food with an opal-inset, razor-sharp, golden grapefruit spoon. Decadent  _ and _ painful.

Kyoya yawned through the entire walk to the kitchen, so I had to go off of the golden plaques beside each room’s massive wooden doors to know what was happening or where we were heading. He backed in through some swinging double doors, and I followed, popping into a bustling, eerily clean, kitchen. As soon as we appeared, everyone stopped and bowed in unison, which had me seriously considering that the staff at Kyoya’s were robots, and they shouted, “Good morning, Master Kyoya! And guest!” 

He waved a lazy hand at everyone, covering a yawn with his free hand. The staff went back to their duties in a snap, and one broke away from the pack to approach us. “Good morning, Master Kyoya. Are you hungry?” she asked, accent faint, hands daintily folded at her waist. She looked no older than us, but there was no way that was possible. 

“Breakfast on the terrace, if you don’t mind, Elodie,” Kyoya responded flatly, “And bring coffee. Lots.” 

“Sure thing.” Bowing, Elodie flitted off to prepare our food, and Kyoya about-faced, heading out of the kitchen. He guided me out with a hand on the small of my back. 

I must have been staring. I mean, can you blame me?

Neither of us said anything as he led me through his house yet again, this time with his hand warming my skin through his sweatshirt. Maybe he was just too tired to realize he was still touching me, or he left his hand there to remind himself to get his sweatshirt back, but either way, every time his entire palm pressed to my back to guide me, electricity shot through every nerve like straight espresso dumping into my veins. 

We ended up on a back patio at a wrought iron and glass table, covered by a sturdy metal pergola with a taut white canopy. Even the yard was crisp and sterile, the lawn mowed in straight lines, the hedges snipped into harsh angles, the flowers grown in precise, color-blocked patterns. Kyoya pushed in my chair when I sat, and I thanked him softly. He nodded, but said nothing else as he walked around to the other side of the table, taking the seat across from me. 

Elbows on the table, Kyoya tented his fingers and stared at me, deep in thought. My stomach turned, uncomfortable under his gray gaze. I wished that coffee would hurry up so I’d have something to do with my hands. 

“Do you want to talk about last night?” he finally said, his voice more gentle than I had expected. 

_ Not really. _

Adjusting in my seat, I chewed my lip and forced out, “I mean, thank you for calling Mei. I’m glad she wasn’t worried.” When he didn’t say anything back, I was forced to fill the silence. “And thank you for coming to rescue me. I- I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.” 

Elodie chose just then to arrive with a cart full of food, and I flushed, my ears hot under my tangle of hair. “Lattes for the both of you,” she said, setting frothy white mugs in front of each of us before turning to her cart. “And for food this morning, we have either lobster eggs benedict or a sweet potato hash with turkey sausage and bell pepper.” Kyoya raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to select my breakfast first. I chose the hash, and he chose the eggs benedict, which I could have foreseen. When I thanked Elodie, she beamed at me as she set my plate down in front of me, and patted Kyoya’s shoulder as she left his plate for him. “Polite. I like her,” she said, turning and leaving with her cart. 

I smiled to myself and sipped my latte. 

I’m polite as fuck, thanks for noticing, Elodie. 

We ate in silence until I thought I would burst, both with food and with unspoken thoughts. But when I finally went to say something, Kyoya spoke at the same time. 

“I really appreciate you, Kyo-”

“I have yet to hear an apology-”

Goosebumps of rage broke out over my entire body, frigid despite the early morning sun and Kyoya’s cologne-scented sweatshirt. I gripped my golden fork so hard that I was positive I’d bend it in half. Positive I’d heard him wrong, I clenched and unclenched my jaw, and said, “We spoke at the same time, maybe you should go first.” 

Kyoya leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “No, no,  _ please _ . I’d  _ love _ to hear what you were about to say, Michiyo.” By now, I was used to reading the miniscule emotions in his face, and that tiny crease in his brow informed me that he was furious and unamused, among other things, despite the light, sarcastic tone he’d used. 

My fork met my plate a little harder than I’d intended, and I took a shaky, stabilizing sip of my latte. “I don’t intend on apologizing for getting stalked, if that’s what you’re waiting for, Kyoya,” I said coolly, staring into my half-eaten hash, “Because that sounds an awful lot like victim-blaming to me.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then tell me what you want,” I hissed, holding onto my mug for dear life. If I let go, I wasn’t sure that I’d like how much my hands trembled. “Because I’m not a mind-reader.” Tears tore at my throat, stinging my day-old contacts. 

With a sigh, Kyoya pressed his glasses up higher on his nose and began making a list on his fingers, ticking off each item one at a time. “You weren’t smart last night. You slipped your bodyguards. You didn’t wear reflective gear. You didn’t take pepper spray or a weapon and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupted, setting my mug down with a  _ clank _ and gripping the arms of my wrought-iron chair for stability, “I realize that I left Ellis at home to watch Mei, but… Bodyguards? As in  _ multiple _ ?” 

We made eye contact across the table. Hesitating, Kyoya swallowed, and I saw the  _ ‘oh shit’ _ look in his eye for the briefest of moments. “I- I asked a few of the Black Onion Squad to tail you,” he confessed, “After we met. After I- after we talked about the stalker the first time-”

I shot to my feet, bumping the table with my thighs and sending the cutlery rattling, coffee sloshing over the rims of our mugs and spilling across the glass. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Kyoya. And I  _ specifically _ told you that I didn’t want any extra protection.” The tears were gone. Only fury fueled my body at that point, but I somehow kept my voice calm. Sure, I sounded a little unhinged, but I felt it was warranted. “I’m not some… some  _ porcelain doll _ that breaks at the slightest breeze. I can take care of myself.” 

“Then act like it, Michiyo.” 

The silence that followed only emphasized how loudly my heart slammed in my ears, how sharply my ragged breaths tore out of my lungs. I lifted my head, teeth bared, to look him in the eyes. To see his face. To determine if this was some kind of nightmare. 

Kyoya sat in his garden chair like he’d never sinned in his life. His face betrayed no emotion at all, chiseled from stone and set in ivory. “You’re just a child, Michiyo. We both are. But you have people that depend on you. You cannot act so recklessly. You cannot behave so foolishly. You cannot trust so easily.” He paused, sipped his coffee, and continued with deadly precision in his calculating, cold tone, “Ellis, for example. Did you know he’s been charged with stalking before, Michiyo? Never convicted? And he was dishonorably discharged from the US army for assaulting female officers?” 

Tearing at his sweatshirt as he spoke, I slipped my phone from the pocket and shimmied out of it, throwing the ball of fabric at Kyoya’s chest with all of my force. “If you cared about me, then you wouldn’t make me apologize. And you wouldn’t accuse Ellis of anything. I’ve known him longer than you… and I trust him with my life. I don’t trust you at all.” I clenched my fists at my sides and spat, “Leave me alone, Kyoya Ootori, and don’t speak to me ever again.” 

I stormed off toward the house, spinning into a whirlwind of fury and remorse and spite. At the last second, I hesitated, spun back toward him, and added, my voice as deadly and even as I could manage, “You weren’t even my first choice for knight in shining armor last night. I tried to call  _ Mori _ first, and he didn’t answer. You were the backup option.” 

The hurt in his eyes almost made all of it worthwhile. Almost.

I don’t remember much of running through Kyoya’s sterile museum of a house, but I bumped into Elodie on the way and managed, “I need my dog and my shoes, please,” through my hiccupping sobs. She nodded and scurried off, and I wiped my snotty tears away with the heels of my hands. 

Mochi pitter-pattered in from the other room, Elodie jogging in afterward with my sneakers in her arms. I thanked her through my jagged vocal cords and yanked my shoes on, scooping Mochi into my arms. 

Kyoya barreled into the hall as I thanked Elodie once more, his eyes wild as they fell on me. “Michiyo!” 

For a second, the scene shuddered to a stop, my heart slamming into my throat. Kyoya and I stared at each other for that long moment, aware that this was a breaking point. I wanted nothing more than to take it all back. To say I was sorry. To pull his sweatshirt back on, go back up to his room, and never leave.

But it was too late. 

So... I ran.


	17. Ch.16 - Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo awoke in Kyoya's grandiose house. They went down for breakfast, but in the middle of their meal, the mood turned sour when Kyoya asked for an apology. 
> 
> Michiyo and Kyoya started arguing about everything from Ellis to being mature to lying, which ended with Michiyo storming off. Just before going inside, she let it slip that Kyoya wasn't even her first call of the night; she tried to call Mori first, tried to have him save her instead. 
> 
> She ran home.

🏵

The flight to the States was boring as shit.

Mei, Ellis, and I flew first class out of Tokyo International on a red eye that I knew I wouldn’t sleep on. While Mei snoozed on Ellis’s shoulder across the aisle, movie playing in her headphones, Ellis read a thick novel. He tried explaining the premise to me - something about politics and assassinations and undercover agents - but honestly, I zoned out part way through his summary. I read and reread my lines for the movie, making notes and highlighting important stage directions.

It kept me from thinking about Kyoya.

Since the fight at his house three days earlier, we hadn’t spoken.

Total silence. And that was fine by me.

I mostly spent the time packing and re-dyeing my roots white for my role, anyway. I didn’t have time to worry about Kyoya. Or think about what he’d said about Ellis.

It didn’t seem like the twins knew what had happened, because they continued to send me memes when they weren’t playing video games. In fact, it didn’t sound like any of the other hosts knew. Honey texted me with a chipper ‘good morning” text and cutesy gif every day, same as always. Mori was silent on all fronts unless absolutely necessary. Tamaki called once a day “just to check in”, just like he usually did on our days off. Haruhi and I exchanged messages when we remembered, but she was heading off to the coast for a summer job, so I tried not to bother her.

Everything was normal. Except for the gaping void of Kyoya’s absence, I hardly noticed a change in my life.

When we touched down at LAX, my phone flooded with good luck messages from the club, sans Kyoya, and a handful of texts from my parents, who claimed to be excited to see Mei and I. I’d believe that when I saw concrete evidence. Honestly, I didn’t even expect to see them while we were in the States for a whole month. So any effort on their part at all would be miraculous and note-worthy.

Hooking a face mask over my nose and mouth to obscure my frown and dissipate my airplane breath, I helped Mei gather her things and deplane behind Ellis, wandering into the bustling airport.

Just as expected, our parents didn’t come in person to retrieve us. They sent their driver, Hugo, to escort us to the car while Ellis waited for our suitcases at the baggage claim. Hugo, like the _plethora_ of bodyguards before him, was massive - a mountain of a man, really - and able to mow down fans with a sweep of an arm or a single, piercing glare. And, lucky for Mei and I, he had a heart of gold. And a super-cool accent.

Hugo pushed through the endless ocean of fans that had gathered near the luggage carousels, protecting Mei and I with his massive chest and arms.

Pops of light pricked my vision, stinging my eyes. _Paparazzi._ I shielded our faces with my hands and bag as much as possible, hoping to avoid too many front pages during my short time in the states.

We made it to the white SUV unscathed. Ellis found our bags and chucked them in, fending off our trunk from a rabid fanboy who tried to climb inside. Hugo put the truck in gear, and the second Ellis was in the passenger seat he slammed on the gas, leaving the fans behind in a cloud of sand and smog.

“Welcome back to LA, Miss Mei. Miss Michiyo,” Hugo grumbled from the front seat, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He cranked the air conditioning up to max, and relaxed into his driver’s seat.

Mei squeezed my hand and we peered out the window at the towering buildings, the skyscraping palm trees, the fancy cars, the riotous billboards, the manicured hills that closed in on us like a suffocating straightjacket of earth.

_Welcome home._

🏵

Mori hesitated to answer the phone when he saw Kyoya’s name on the caller ID.

But he knew deep down that it would be worse if he didn’t answer at all.

“Kyoya.”

_“Mori-senpai,”_ Kyoya said, voice strangely level, _“How are you?”_

Hesitating, Mori answered, “Fine.” Mori disliked small talk, and he knew Kyoya only participated in it if he had to or felt uncomfortable. “What do you need, Kyoya?”

_“I need to talk to you about the other night. When Mi… when Kimura called you.”_

A frown twisted Mori’s face, mirroring the knots in his stomach. He should have known this conversation would happen. If not with Kyoya, then with someone else sooner or later.

Honey tugged on Mori’s sleeve, raising his eyebrow in question. “What?” he mouthed, “What’s going on?”

Raising a finger to his lips, Mori lowered his phone and put it on speaker so that Honey could hear too. The two of them had been taking a lunch break in the middle of their sparring practice, noting moves to teach Michiyo once school was back in session. “What about it?” Mori said finally, resting his forehead in his palm, his elbow on his knee. He really wasn’t ready for this conversation.

_“Michiyo said she called and you didn’t answer. I realize it was late, and that we hadn’t discussed parameters of yours and Honey’s responsibilities as her bodyguards during the summer…”_ Kyoya began, sounding as formal as ever.

Mori and Honey exchanged a confused look, waiting for Kyoya to continue. “But?” Mori prompted.

Kyoya sighed. _“But she was in trouble. And if she hadn’t called me after you, I don’t know what would have happened.”_

Honey’s small hand reached out and gripped Mori’s, squeezing for stability. Mori closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths. “I know,” he finally said, “She left a message.”

When Kyoya didn’t respond, Mori continued. “I was asleep, and my phone was on silent. I didn’t know until the next morning that she had called, and by then, you already fixed everything.” He bit back the _‘like you always do’_ that weighed on his tongue. It wouldn’t help.

_“Mori, if I’d been too late…”_ Kyoya whispered, his voice cracking.

Biting his lips, Honey forced down the kind, soft words he had for both Kyoya and Takashi. He couldn’t give away that he was there. He couldn’t console his friends, no matter how badly he wanted to, without giving away the lie.

So he gripped Mori’s hand harder.

“But you weren’t,” Mori said simply, “She assured me of that.”

Muffled sounds came from the other end of the call before Kyoya hung up. Honey wrapped his arms around Takashi as best as he could, comforting his friend. “You didn’t know, Takashi,” he reminded him, “You would have been there if you did.”

“I know,” Mori nodded, knots leadening in his stomach, “I know.”

🏵

The Cali house was as lifeless as ever, looking like an advertisement from hell.

My parents were the type who had kids because it was trendy, because their friends were having kids at the time, because they wanted the clout… but who never should’ve been allowed near a human child, nevertheless birth _two_ of them. So they hired help, had nannies and butlers raise Mei and I in Japan while they lived five thousand miles away, partying and drinking and boasting about parenthood like they’d ever really tried it.

The Cali house feigned a perfect family.

But I knew the truth: My parents were self-absorbed assholes.

Hugo carried our bags in, and Ellis unlocked the door for us, locking the SUV and the gate behind us. He promptly excused himself to do a perimeter check, ensuring that no stragglers snuck in while we drove up. Mei and I toed off our shoes, ready to settle in. She followed Hugo up to our rooms, and I wandered into the kitchen, glaring at the photoshopped family pictures hanging on the walls with a sneer. _Fake_ , I thought angrily at a picture my parents compiled a few years ago, where they’d edited off all of my imperfections, enhanced my curves ( _at twelve!!!_ ) and had Mei and I clipped in.

As I stole a soda from the fridge - _without permission! Call the cops!_ \- my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I hopped up on the counter to read it, raising the glass Jarritos bottle to my lips and taking a long swig of guava-flavored deliciousness.

A text from Kyoya. **_Hope you made it to the states safely._**

Not wanting to be a total dick, I texted back: **_we did. Made it to the house. Already suffering._** I took another sip from my bottle and stared at the message for nearly a minute before pressing send, deciding it couldn’t hurt anything to respond. It would probably be worse if I didn’t answer… he’d have Black Onion people here in seconds in full riot gear, fully convinced I’d died or been kidnapped or something.

He answered almost immediately. **_Sorry to hear that... You could always come back, you know. Kaoru’s been insufferable since you left._**

**_Can’t. I have a job to do. Plus, it’s only a month, Kyoya. You’ll both survive._ **

His response nearly shocked the residual anger out of me. **_I’m sure I will, but what about you?_**

**_What about me?_** I raised an eyebrow at my phone, finishing off my soda and lobbing the bottle into the recycling with a successful, satisfying _clink_.

The next response took a while, the three little dots disappearing and reappearing over and over while he typed. Finally, it came through.

**_Will you be okay, Michiyo?_ **

My cheeks flared to life. I could practically hear him speaking the words into my ear. Fingers trembling as I lifted my phone to answer, I bit my lip and mulled over my response.

**_I’ll have to be, Kyoya_** , I answered.

**_I have no choice._ **


	18. Ch.17 - Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Michiyo and Mei flew to California with Ellis for Michiyo's role in the movie she'd been preparing for. Their parents didn't show up, but they sent a bodyguard in their stead, a mountainous man named Hugo.
> 
> Meanwhile, Kyoya called Mori and tried to talk to him about the stalker incident with Michiyo. Honey overheard the whole conversation. 
> 
> Once home, Michiyo caved and texted Kyoya back to let him know that she made it to LA safely. He asked if she'd be okay, and she said she had no other choice. She'd have to be...

🏵

The movie began filming my scenes the next day. 

I woke at five to go meet my stunt coordinator, Renee, dressed in athleisure and ready to sweat. We’d been video chatting for months - well, ever since I signed onto the movie - in preparation for my role. She’d been sending me YouTube videos of stunts to practice, guiding my nutrition and meal prep, and she’d been the one to insist I take kendo as one of my electives last semester. 

Plus, Renee knew  _ everything _ : krav maga, judo, kendo, karate, MMA, boxing, parkour, and even a bunch of stuff I couldn’t name or remember. 

In a nutshell: Renee’s badass.

We hugged for the first time ever after Ellis escorted me into the proper studio, squealing and giggling like we’d known each other our whole lives. To be honest, I kind of saw Renee as the older sister figure I’d never had but always wanted, or maybe the cool wine aunt that I could go to for advice or an extraction from an uncomfortable situation. I’d called her more than once at an inappropriate hour of the night to ask for help in sticky predicaments, so it was a teensy bit surreal finally meeting this wise mentor of mine after only knowing her online for so long. 

“Michi, I cannot believe you’re real,” Renee laughed, playing with my hair, “And this hair is  _ fire _ , girl. Absolutely immaculate.” Her tan, freckled skin read as trademark Californian, as did her sun-bleached blonde hair, despite it being pulled back into two boxer braids. 

I smirked and said, “You’re the one who wouldn’t fly out to Japan to train me, so it’s _ a little bit _ your fault that we haven’t met earlier.” 

She gaped, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth so I knew she wasn’t actually mad, and propped her hands on her hips like she was surprised I was so sassy this early in the morning. To be honest, I was a little surprised too. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? I’m hearing you loud and clear, kiddo. We’re starting with laps, then.” 

Fuck my life. 

“Got it, boss lady,” I sighed, miserably jogging in the direction she pointed. 

_ “Faster!”  _

“Yes ma’am!” 

🏵

After a grueling morning with Renee, Ellis drove me over to the set. 

I finally shook hands with all of the important people, shmoozed the folks that needed shmoozing, and tried to make friends with my costars. The fun was short-lived though. After maybe an hour on set, someone forced me into a makeup trailer, where a peppy pink-haired girl got to work on me, layering me in movie magic and mysterious expensive stuff. 

Someone popped in to fix my hair, but it didn’t take nearly as long. They teased and sprayed my hair until it looked thoroughly bedraggled, more apocalypse-chic than bedhead rogue, how it had been. 

Then, just as my makeup lady, Ayla, finished up, a costumer traipsed in with my suit. The two of them helped me wiggle into my hero suit - a black-and-white, one-piece, neoprene-and-spandex number - before forcing me into some wedge-heeled boots and matching gloves. 

“Record time, I think,” Ayla hummed, circling me to look for imperfections. “I think you’re the most low maintenance person we’ve had through the trailer.” 

I laughed. “I’m taking that as a compliment.” 

“You should.” 

Ellis escorted me over to the proper part of the set, his eyes flicking in every direction, like someone would pop out from a shadow with a gun at any second. Paranoid weirdo. 

“There she is!” The director beamed, gesturing for me to come forward as we approached. “Michiyo Kimura, AKA Feral!” 

Beaming, I hustled over and took up residence under the director’s outstretched arm. Honestly, I was super stoked to be playing a female asian hero that wasn’t the stereotypical ninja or weirdly-porny schoolgirl.  _ Feral _ could manifest different animal parts on her body after a world-wide nuclear fallout problem that left the earth dealing with mutated animals and people; she rallied a band of heroes together to regain control after all of the rich people left earth for space. 

The part would require a lot of CGI and green screen, but I was ready for a challenge. And another movie would get my parents off my back for a little while… so that was an added bonus. Especially if it did well. 

Then they might forget I existed altogether. 

One could only hope. 

“Michiyo - do you mind if I call you Michiyo?” the director said, dragging me into the set of a destroyed urban area, skyscrapers suddenly swallowing us up and smoke wafting up from the hulls of wrecked cars. 

I shrugged, “Whatever works, boss.” 

He smiled. “I like you already. Let’s get started.” 

🏵

“Books?” 

_ “Books!”  _

“Phone?”

_ “Phone!”  _

“Usa-chan?” 

_ “Pfft- Takashi, you’re so funny. You know I wouldn’t forget-”  _

“Just checking.” 

Honey and Mori video chatted while they packed their suitcases. Tamaki called them about crashing Haruhi’s summer job on the coast, which was better than sitting around and sparring and doing basically the same thing they always did. 

_ “What do you think Haru-chan’s doing?” _ Honey asked, his phone pointing up at the ceiling. Every so often he flitted past his screen with something in his arms, dumping it into his suitcase. 

Mori gave a noncommittal grunt. “Dunno.” He hadn’t really been worrying about Haruhi recently… he’d been more preoccupied with Michiyo, all the way across the ocean without them. By herself, really. In Mori’s hands, he held his battered copy of Small Steps by Louis Sachar, thinking about the hardcover version he’d seen on Michiyo’s bookshelf… wondering if she packed it. 

Honey snuck peeks at his best friend through his phone, watching Mori zone out over the book in his grasp. Snickering, Honey shook his head and continued to pack. He’d never seen Mori so out of sorts.  _ Who knew a loud mouth like Michiyo could crack his tough exterior?  _

A noise cut through their easy, digital hangout. One of their phones was ringing, vibrating loud enough to hear through the call. “Is that me, or you?” Mori grumbled, still trying to decide if he should pack his favorite book or not. 

“Me! Be right back!” Honey chirped, hanging up on the video call. 

Alone once more, Mori stood in his simply decorated room and sighed. He didn’t text Michiyo often, if ever, but one harmless check-in text couldn’t hurt, right? Just to make sure she was okay? 

The moment he grabbed his phone from his bedside table, it began to ring. Honey called him back. Rolling his eyes, Mori answered. “That was fast.” 

“Change of plans, Takashi!” Honey beamed, his face much too close to the camera as he held up a finger. “I need to check Usa-chan’s... but your passport is up to date, right?”

“Sure… why…?”

Honey grinned mischievously.

“Ever been to California?” 

🏵

After a long day of filming, I poured my exhausted bones into the back of the dark SUV with a sigh. I felt like a human-shaped pile of gelatin with a vague awareness that I had physical form, but mostly all I felt was pain. 

Being a superhero is hard work, man.

Ellis chuckled and adjusted the rearview mirror. He made eye contact with me in the reflection as he said, “You ready for that interview, kiddo? The one with the late night guy? You want me to stop and grab you some dinner first?” 

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, flopping over to bury my face in the cool leather of the seat. “I totally forgot.” With no makeup on and only in my workout clothes, I definitely wasn’t ready for any TV interviews. My parents were going to kill me if I botched this opportunity. Like, maybe literally have me killed. They knew people. 

Jerking his thumb over his shoulder and never taking his eyes off of the busy road, Ellis said, “I grabbed you an outfit. It’s hanging in the back. And Mei packed up a makeup bag for you… not sure what’s in it, so fair warning.” 

My anxiety quelled instantly, heart stuttering back to resting rhythm behind my ribs. “You’re a lifesaver, Ellis,” I admitted. Using every ounce of my strength, I climbed over the back seat and started changing, thankful for tinted windows and thoughtful friends. 

From the front seat, I heard Ellis chuckle. “I know.” 

🏵

“So tell us, Michiyo…” 

Legs crossed at the knee, I straightened in my uncomfortable club chair, careful to keep my smile up and unforced. My eyes never wavered from the late night show host, Kurt Peoples, even with my body awkwardly tilted toward the camera to show off the tight orange dress Ellis snagged from my closet.  _ If it was any smaller, I wouldn’t be able to breathe, so thanks for that, Ellis, you fucking asshole.  _

He smiled weirdly. Like, every tooth in his mouth was on display when he grinned, and it creeped me the fuck out. “How does it feel to be here tonight?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. 

“Exciting!” I answered, remembering my practice lines with my mom years ago. “I’ve never been on a late night show by myself before, so this is a first.” 

I led him straight into a clip that I knew he’d lined up - they warned me in the green room beforehand - and Kurt leaned over his desk as he addressed the camera. “Your first time here was quite a number of years ago, huh? Let’s look back on that, shall we?” 

In the video, I sat between my parents on a loveseat, dressed in a ridiculous cheetah-print dress obviously not meant for children, and some cute-ass little black sneakers that I wish came in adult sizes. They’d just finished filming a spy movie,  _ Chrome _ , in which I made my theatrical debut as their kid. 

It was the worst. 

But I sat through that first interview like a champ, beaming through a jack-o-lantern smile and using big kid words like “facetious” and “levity” that the audience ate up like chumps. Even then, I hated it. Even then, I knew my parents were using me. 

Even then, I knew I was just a prop. 

The audience let out a collective “awww” as the clip wrapped up, and I zoned back in. Clapping alongside the crowd, Kurt put a hand over his heart like he was touched by my childhood performance. I feigned a bow and flipped my hair, hamming it up. 

“So,” Kurt said, seamlessly transitioning back to the interview, “What’s that little kid up to these days? How’s the boyfriend?” 

_ Ugh. Him. _ “He’s great! I’m excited to see him this weekend,” I lied. Everyone and their sister wanted to know how Sunday Fortner was, but did they care about me? Nope. Fuck me, right? “I’m really focusing on school right now. I carefully planned this movie I’m filming during my summer break so it wouldn’t interfere with my studies.” 

“Right, right. The superhero movie,” Kurt nodded, looking over his notes. “And your parents released a statement earlier today that you’re graduating early to pursue an acting career… is that true?” 

Um, what? That wasn’t on the docket.

My shaking palms coated in sweat. I swallowed, hopefully invisibly. “Mmhmm. Yup. Graduating early,” I managed, trying to just repeat what Kurt said as I processed and tried to tamp down my rage. 

_ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck  _

“Well you heard it here first, folks,” he told the camera directly. “Michiyo Kimura is graduating this year and dedicating herself to acting!” 

Kill me now. 

My life is over. 

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist available on my spotify, titled BLOOM, username klaxdal


End file.
